


"Of Sentinels and Walnuts..."

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-13 04:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: A post TSbyBS 'fix', by way of the 'Sandburg Zone!'





	"Of Sentinels and Walnuts..."

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Elaine, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Artifact Storage Room 3](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Artifact_Storage_Room_3) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Artifact Storage Room 3’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/artifactstorageroom3/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Like so many other writers before me, I found the series finale to be totally unsatisfactory, so decided to do my own fix - and I have no idea where this particular notion came from unless it was inspired by visiting a good friend who is planting a walnut grove!?

**Prologue: 23 years previously:**   


Steven Jensen sighed inwardly as he took his seat in front of his boisterous class of eight year olds, wishing not for the first time that retirement was already within his grasp. 

A teacher of thirty years’ experience, all of which had taken place in the only school in this small, mid-western town of Butler’s Crossing, he was more than a little jaded, frequently feeling as if the real academic world had side-lined him prematurely and left him behind. No matter that he had let it happen, apparently content to live out his life in the same community and lacking the drive to move onwards and upwards. And truth be told, it did give him a sort of comfort and pleasure to teach successive generations of local families, but there was a blandness and inevitability to the occupation. Seldom did any of his students aspire to the realms of college or university education, and indeed, many failed to graduate from the nearest High School, such that his wistful fantasies of nurturing talented young minds remained just that – simple dreams. 

Until today, it seemed. 

Calling his pupils to order, he became aware of a new face in their midst, sitting quietly in one of the less popular front row seats, totally absorbed in the large book open on his desk. 

Ah yes. Blair Sandburg. Jensen recalled being told of a new starter by the Head Master just last week. The child of one of the travellers who frequented the so-called ‘commune’ that had been set up on a run-down ranch not too far from the town. Not that the townspeople had much to do with those hippies, neither understanding nor desiring to interact socially with them – but they didn’t turn their noses up at trading with them when a profit could be made. 

To be honest, Jensen had assumed that the child would be a girl with a name like that, probably none too bright and poorly educated to boot, and so unlikely to interest him at all. He was a little disconcerted therefore to see a rather small, curly-haired boy, dressed in colourful, if mismatched clothing, who continually pushed a pair of badly-fitting spectacles up his nose as he read. 

Guiltily realising he had committed the cardinal sin of pre-judging the child, he responded by snapping unnecessarily sharply at the hapless boy. 

“Mr Sandburg! Are you intending to join our class today?” Jensen asked, directing his most censorious glare at the youngster, to be completely taken aback when the child raised his head and smiled happily at the teacher. 

“Yes please, Sir” he replied, eyes filled with pleasure and excitement. And what arresting eyes they were – huge, blue and so expressive Jensen was almost bedazzled. 

As the rest of the class sniggered, waiting for Teacher to put the little hippy bastard in his place, Jensen simply smiled gently in response and said, “Good, good! Now, please come forward and tell us all a little about yourself.” 

He was dismayed then when the light dimmed appreciably in the child’s eyes even as he rose to obey the command, realising belatedly that he was probably doing completely the wrong thing by directing attention to the newcomer. Inwardly cursing himself for his unwonted lack of forethought and tact, he knew it was too late to backtrack, so decided to try and make it as painless as possible for the boy, knowing only too well that there were more than a few of his pupils who were undoubtedly already planning on making the kid’s life a misery. 

When Blair stood before him, he said kindly, “So, young man. Can you tell us your name, and your age?” 

Meeting his eyes guilelessly, the boy replied, “My name is Blair Sandburg, Sir. I’m nearly seven years old, and my Mom’s name is Naomi, Sir.” 

“Only six, Blair? You shouldn’t really be in this class, child, even at nearly seven. You should be in Miss Wilkins’ class” and he glared round the room when a few of the other pupils laughed nastily at his words. 

“Um, I did go to Miss Wilkins, Sir, but when she heard me read, she said I should come up to you, Sir” the boy replied shyly. 

“I see, Blair. Well, in that case, can you fetch your book, and perhaps read a bit to the class? I think it would do us all good to hear something new” he declared pointedly, hoping that he wasn’t making matters even worse. 

Obediently returning to his desk, Blair picked up the book and handed it to Jensen, who was even more bemused when he recognised it as the second part of Tolkien’s ‘Lord of the Rings’ trilogy, ‘The Two Towers’. 

Passing the volume back to Blair, he nodded to indicate that Blair read out loud, which he did – perfectly. 

After a while, Jensen said gently, “Thank you, Blair. That was very good. I think Miss Wilkins was correct to send you up to me. Now, if you’ll take a seat, we will carry on...”  


\--------------------------  


The rest of the day had passed quickly for Blair, who was content to absorb information like a sponge, honestly enjoying his new teacher’s presentation even if he thought that perhaps Mr Jensen misunderstood some of the concepts he was describing. After having already attended more than one school in his short but peripatetic life, and been home-schooled since he could talk, Blair was aware that sometimes it wasn’t a good idea to argue with grown-ups even when they were wrong. 

The not-so-good part of the day came when it was time to go home, as Blair had to walk a short distance to where his Mom was meeting him to take him back to the commune, and three of his larger and nastier classmates were lying in wait to ambush him as he passed. 

“Hey, hippy boy! Give us your bag! If you know what’s good for you, runt!” snarled the ringleader, who was the son of one of the bigger landowners near the town, and full of his own self-importance. 

“Yeah, come on! Give us what you got, kid!” growled his friends, pushing Blair from one to the other, intent on intimidating their prey. 

It was the arrival of both Mr Jensen and Naomi at more or less the same time that prevented the altercation becoming more unpleasant, but Blair knew for sure that he wouldn’t get off so lightly next time, and resigned himself to yet more bullying. 

If only they would stay in one place long enough for him to make a real friend. He’d be OK then with someone to stand beside him, he just knew it..... 

Dredging up a smile for his Mom, because he didn’t want her to worry about him and feel the need to move on again so soon, he chattered about the good parts of the day, happily telling her about his homework project, already mentally considering how he was going to tackle it.  


\--------------------------  


Over the course of the next few days, Blair continued to impress Jensen with his precocious intelligence and undoubted joy in the learning process such that the teacher found his own enthusiasm for education reignited. He couldn’t remember ever having such an apt and charming pupil, even if he was slightly uncomfortable in the knowledge that in all likelihood Blair was far brighter than he himself. 

A pity then that the youngster still had to put up with a certain amount of bullying, and even blatant attempts to pick his brains by the less gifted – and far lazier – members of the class. Unfortunately, such behaviour was to be expected to a certain extent in a tightly-knit and introverted community, just as the culprits’ parents generally snubbed and reviled the beautiful but outrageously unconventional Naomi and her unorthodox companions. 

It was during a class discussion about a project concerning foodstuffs when Jensen was granted the privilege of an insight into the workings of the early Sandburg mind, and Blair himself began to understand just where he wanted his studies to lead him. 

As the discussion progressed, Jensen made sure to let his other pupils have their say, and indeed some of them had actually put some thought into their presentation, perhaps influenced by the diligence of their new classmate. 

On the other hand, there were others who had made little effort, along the lines of Blair’s chief tormentor who said, “Apples are good. We grow them, and my Ma makes pies so they must be good.” 

When it came to Blair’s turn, he pulled a handful of walnuts from his pocket, and facing the class, he said, “I want to talk about walnuts. One of my Mom’s friends gave me some, and it made me think....” 

Of course, some of the class erupted in mocking laughter, causing the younger boy to blush painfully, but Jensen was quick to quell the unruly elements. 

“How dare you laugh at your classmate!” he began. “We have all listened to your contributions, so now you can listen to Blair’s. He has undoubtedly put a lot of thought into his project, so the least we can do is listen politely!” and he glared at the class, daring them to defy him. 

Once order had been restored, Blair continued; shyly at first, then gathering momentum as he expanded on his chosen topic. 

“Well, I was cracking the walnuts open to put them in the salad, and I realised that the kernel looks very like a brain – as if the shell is a skull, and the nut is the brain sheltering inside.” 

Of course, there were a few groans and ‘Eeeews!’ at that, but otherwise, most of the class seemed to settle in to listen, albeit with not a little morbid fascination. 

Grinning a little, Blair warmed to his theme. 

“The thing is, when you look at the nut, it looks flawless – whole and undamaged – but when you crack it open, sometimes it’s wrinkled or bad inside. I think our brains must be like that. Sometimes they’re perfect – maybe even better than normal – but sometimes they’re hurt, so that the person can’t help but be sad or bad. Or ill...” and he bit his lip pensively at the notion. 

“Anyway, if doctors look at brains like we can at walnuts, but without breaking them too much, perhaps they can understand why some people get sick and make them better, and perhaps they can work out what makes some people special. Because there are people who are special!” he added defiantly, almost daring his classmates to disagree with him. “I’ve read about special people – real ones, not the ones in cartoons and comics....” and he tailed off, unwilling to say more unless prodded. 

“Very good, Blair. Very good indeed” murmured Jensen, almost overwhelmed by the perspicacity of the just turned seven year old. 

Perhaps he was finally in the presence of a genius despite his modest position, and, more to the point, perhaps he could actually have a hand in grooming this child prodigy as he grew and matured. The teacher’s heart swelled at the thought.... 

Unfortunately for Jensen, and perhaps for Blair in retrospect, Naomi’s wanderlust kicked in once again, and within weeks the pair moved on.  


\------------------------------  


**Part 1: The Evening after the Badge Presentation:**  


Seated on the grass with his back pressed up against the side of his Volvo, Blair hugged his knees to his chest, and, resting his chin on them, gazed out at the twinkling lights of distant Cascade. It had been an incredible day, not always for the right reasons, and he had been almost overwhelmed by the many shocks his reeling emotions had endured, such that he had escaped as soon as he had been able to extricate himself with a modicum of politeness and taken himself off to one of his favourite locations for quiet contemplation. 

He had spent many hours here over the years, sometimes with a chosen companion, but usually alone, finding the view and peacefulness conducive to meditation and self-examination. However, tonight it was an uphill battle, and he still had decisions to make that would affect both his future and that of his best friend. Except, of course, he didn’t really believe in the ‘best friend’ tag any more, from the ‘best friend’s’ point of view, at least. 

Sighing deeply, he replayed the day’s events yet again, knowing that the sooner he made his decisions, the better, even though the battered, hurt core inside him wanted to cower away from the responsibility, not ready to take any more abuse.  


\------------------------  


Having decided that morning that he really had to clear out his desk at Rainier, because to delay any longer only gave Chancellor Edwards more of a stick to beat him with, he had taken himself over to the campus and carried out the heartbreaking task as quickly as possible, clamping down fiercely on his emotions as he boxed up the evidence of fourteen years of academic life. 

He had deliberately tried to avoid coming into contact with any more people than necessary, but had been somewhat surprised – and not a little grateful – to find that not everyone snubbed him like a pariah. True, most had, but a few who mattered, like a fellow TA from the anthro department and his now former student helper Emily had sympathised with him, even to the extent of helping him lug his boxes to the Volvo. 

Sniffing in genuine sorrow, Emily placed the box she was carrying into the back seat of the Volvo and shut the door. Turning to face Blair, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard before pulling back to gaze into his face with watery eyes. 

“I’m going to miss you, Blair. It’s not right, what happened, and there are more people than you know that think the same way. I know you can’t come back, but I hope you can make that witch Edwards pay for what she did to you. She had no right!” and her eyes hardened with defiance on his behalf. Lifting her hand, she stroked his cheek briefly, then turned and ran back up the steps of Hargrove Hall, stifling her sobs as best she could as Blair looked after her, pitifully grateful for her loyalty even as he was concerned for the grief he had inadvertently caused her. 

“She’s right, you know” added Tim Richardson, a long-time friend and confidant who had stuck beside him through thick and thin. Squeezing Blair’s shoulder comfortingly, he continued, “If you can get someone to act for you, kiddo, you should sue the bitch for leaking your material, especially as it wasn’t even submitted as your diss. Yes, I know” he continued with a wry grin. “You’ve always denied that Ellison is your subject, but anyone with half a brain could see the truth, and I admire you for trying to protect him at your own expense. I just hope he appreciates your sacrifice, babe.” 

Realising it was pointless to continue with the pretence, knowing that he could trust his old friend implicitly, Blair sighed deeply before meeting Tim’s honest gaze. 

“Thanks, man. You don’t know how much it means to me to know that there are still a few people like you and Emily who don’t hate or despise me. But I did make a huge mistake leaving Jim’s name in the diss, even if I truly was going to remove it. I mean, it really can’t be allowed to become common knowledge, you know, for Jim’s sake – even if it isn’t true” he added in rueful automatic denial. 

“And I think I already knew deep inside that I couldn’t really submit it, you know? I mean, it was the best thing I ever wrote, man, and I was so proud of it. But I had already decided to just give it to Jim, hoping it would be of use to him. I mean, I lost my objectivity years ago, but I just didn’t want to admit it. Eli always warned me about ‘going native’, but I guess I just didn’t think it could happen to me...! 

“And now it’s too late. Thanks to Naomi’s meddling and my own stupidity, people got hurt, and I can’t forgive myself for that.” 

“You’re way too hard on yourself, babe! But if you can get some compensation, perhaps you can get onto a doctoral programme in another school. Or get a teaching job somewhere else – make a clean break from Cascade. You’re a great teacher, and you still have your Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees after all, and, surprising as it may seem, not everyone is going to be influenced by sensationalistic journalism!” 

“Yeah, but I admitted to being a fraud, man, so a future employer’s always going to wonder about me. But thanks for your support, man. And I’ll keep in touch, and let you know where I end up.” 

“You’d better, kiddo!” and Tim hugged the smaller man to him in his turn, before releasing him with an unhappy grin to watch his friend climb into the Volvo and drive out of the campus parking lot for what was most probably the last time.  


\-------------------------  


Arriving back at the loft and seeing that both Jim and Naomi were out, Blair sighed in relief, needing a little space to himself while he unloaded his boxes, pushing them haphazardly into his small bedroom as a temporary measure until he decided what he was going to do with them. After all, some of his stuff was already boxed up, never having been unpacked after their return from Sierra Verde. Yet more evidence that things had been going steadily downhill between him and Jim despite – or maybe because of - the ‘fountain’ episode. And it hadn’t been all sweetness and light between them for several weeks before that. 

Shit! He had come back because Jim called him – their spirit animals merging in the most intimate and joyous way, only for Jim to deny him. Again. 

How many times did Blair have to be told that he was untrustworthy? Not worth Jim’s commitment and support? An intruder in Jim’s home, and an unwelcome, if sometimes useful, encumbrance? 

“You’re not a cop, Sandburg!” Just how many times had he heard that? 

Oh yes, Blair thought cynically. There _was_ trust of a sort in their relationship. He could trust that Jim would always find him wanting – would always accuse him of ‘untrustworthiness’. Dying obviously didn’t negate Jim’s lack of trust in him as a partner, and he was so tired of trying to prove himself all the time. He knew he’d fucked up more than once, but dammit; he wasn’t the only one. 

And he hadn’t gotten over the fact that Jim had made out with Alex Barnes on that beach in front of Blair’s very eyes – even though the bitch had murdered him. Sure, he had tried to excuse Jim’s behaviour saying it was some sort of Sentinel-driven instinct, but shit, it hurt! 

The Sentinel’s ingrained fear responses notwithstanding, it had also hurt so deeply that Jim could honestly believe that he would go for the ‘brass ring’ and the money rather than stand by the man who had become the centre of his universe. The man he so wanted to give himself to, and love until the end of his days. 

The man with the power to break his heart. 

Seeing the light flashing on the answer machine, he grimaced, expecting more unwanted calls from hack journalists wanting to ‘interview’ him, or former ‘friends’ who wanted to scold and revile him, but stiffened his resolve and pushed the ‘Play’ button anyway after snagging a beer from the refrigerator to calm his nerves. 

After having deleted the first seven messages, Blair was on the point of throwing the handset across the room and smashing the machine when a familiar voice cut across his hearing. 

“Hey, Blair. Jack Kelso here. I’m so sorry to keep you hanging in there, son, but I want you to know I still believe in you, OK? And I didn’t want to contact you again until I had checked out a few things for you. 

“Anyhow, just wanted to let you know that I managed to secure the services of Dr Salazar –a friend of mine from the Law School I think you may have heard of – who is more than willing to act for you re the Berkshire Publishing case, and also the one against Rainier. Blair, - you have a really good case against the publishers – we have more than enough evidence to support the fact that you demanded that they return your dissertation! And we can also prove that Chancellor Edwards was in close contact with Sidney Graham at Berkshire. She – and Graham – had no right to release your intellectual property without your consent, especially as you hadn’t submitted it anyway. 

“We can exonerate you as far as your Dissertation Committee is concerned, and procure at least a reasonable out-of-court settlement from Berkshire, if you want to pursue that course. I do have to tell you that you could _possibly_ get way more if you wanted to take it further, but I have to say that I believe you should go with the flow. Take what you can, and get the Hell out of Dodge, son! 

“Anyhow, call me back as soon as you can, and let me know what you decide. Speak to you soon, Blair” and the message finished, leaving a totally bemused Sandburg staring at the machine, mouth open in shock and eyes wide in amazement. 

After long moments trying to get his head around what he had just heard, Blair reached out a shaking hand and dialled Kelso’s office, praying that he hadn’t misunderstood.  


\------------------------  


Shifting slightly to ease the beginnings of cramp in his legs and buttocks, Blair thought about how the telephone conversation with Jack Kelso had played out. 

Almost overwhelmed by the fact that not only did Jack believe in him, but was prepared to do so much on his behalf, it had taken a while for Blair to understand his options as his friend explained them to him. 

He knew now that he had a good case against Sid Graham and Berkshire Publishing, and the proposed settlement figure had stunned him. It wasn’t huge, in terms of similar, but highly-contested cases, but it was more than enough to pay off Blair’s outstanding student loans, and give him enough to live on until he found himself a job. More, in fact, than he had ever had in his life. 

As far as Rainier was concerned, it appeared that the best he could expect was a public apology regarding Chancellor Edwards’ actions and the option to submit a dissertation on another topic if he wished as long as it was within a limited time-span. He couldn’t expect to be reinstated as a Teaching Fellow, because in all honesty, his absenteeism had been excessive, particularly as it was almost all down to following Jim to distant parts or recovering in hospital from injuries received whilst working alongside the cop. 

Jack had told him that the Dean had admitted that Blair hadn’t allowed his students to suffer, always making sure his classes were covered, grading papers on time and making himself available during office hours, despite being exhausted from time spent at the PD. However, it wasn’t enough to persuade TPTB that he could be trusted to give Rainier his undivided attention as long as he still lived with Detective Ellison and the ever-present lure of the PD. 

And in all honesty, Blair knew he had become disillusioned with the narrow academic lifestyle he had always enjoyed, having tasted the rollercoaster ride of life as Jim’s partner. 

But that was another decision which was even more difficult to make. Could he in all honesty see himself as a cop? Because the implications of the other choice he had been offered that day were huge.  


\-------------------------  


Having agreed, with an enormous feeling of relief and gratitude, to let Jack and Dr Salazar take care of pursuing his claim on his behalf, Blair decided to go into the PD to return his pass, seeing as he wasn’t expecting Jim back any time soon. He knew Jim had wanted to visit Simon in hospital, and Naomi was spending the afternoon with some friends before taking a taxi to the airport, so it was a good opportunity to slip out and carry out what was likely to be a painful task. 

He was still shaken to the core with what had happened next. 

When a wheelchair-bound Simon, Jim, Naomi and all his friends and colleagues from Major Crimes had entered the bullpen just as he was trying to surreptitiously escape, having explained to Joel why he was there, he had felt so very close to tears. With emotions veering wildly from hurt at Jim’s feeble joke about him being finished at the PD ‘as an observer’, to bewilderment when he had caught the detective’s shield so casually tossed to him, to immense gratitude to Simon for going in to bat for him, he was actually quite proud of himself for not running away screaming hysterically or bawling his eyes out. 

The fact that he was still wanted in Major Crimes at least had warmed him immensely, but once the back-slapping and congratulations were done, he knew he had to get away as soon as he could to process the whole deal. There was so much more to it than a job offer, however well-intentioned, and the ramifications of accepting it had to be thoroughly considered....  


\---------------------  


So, having dropped Jim off at the loft and taken Naomi to the airport, he had driven out here to his favourite ‘thinking place’, and had been here ever since, mulling over his options as evening turned to night. 

Shivering a little now in the chill air, Blair climbed stiffly to his feet, having made his decisions, and dreading the likely reaction he would receive once he told Jim about his choice. But there was no way he was going to duck out of confronting his friend with the information face to face, because it simply wasn’t in him to take the easy way out, whatever Jim may believe of him. Didn’t mean to say he was looking forward to the upcoming conversation, though, and he half hoped that Jim would be in bed by now, so he could put it off until morning.  


\------------------------  


**The loft, later that night:**  


To say that Jim was stunned would be a gross understatement. 

Sitting alone in the darkened loft, he stared sightlessly at the half-empty beer bottle clutched in his hand as he forced himself to concentrate on the discussion he had just had with his Guide. The Guide he had finally succeeded in driving away. 

Shaking himself slightly, he listened in to the restless stirrings coming from Blair’s small room under the stairs, indicating that the younger man was having a far from peaceful night himself. 

Taking a swig of the beer, grimacing at its temperature and slightly stale flavour, he replayed the previous few hours in his mind, his perfect Sentinel recall not allowing him to avoid some very hard truths. If he could have expended some of his nervous energy by pacing up and down, as Blair tended to whenever he needed to vent, he would have. Except that the healing wound in his knee from Zeller’s bullet still precluded that. 

Jaw clenched in anger at both himself and his friend and Guide – if indeed he still had the right to consider Blair to be either – he visualised his chilled and worried roommate’s return to the loft an hour or so ago. 

Despite Blair’s assurances that he would be coming back to the loft after dropping Naomi off at the airport – albeit probably quite late – Jim had found himself unable to relax properly, worried that Sandburg may have changed his mind and ‘done a runner,’ heading off to parts unknown with Naomi’s connivance. And he was now heartily ashamed of even having contemplated that as an option for his young Guide. 

He was so sick of the whole ‘fear-response’ and ‘trust issue’ scene, knowing deep down that he was the primary culprit in all the damaging incidences between him and Blair, but still unable to accept the fact and admit it to his hurting Guide. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have his own pain to deal with, after all. 

When he had heard the slightly uneven engine noises warning him of the Volvo’s approach, he had sat back in relief, knowing that at least Blair was coming back to him tonight. 

As Blair had entered the dimly-lit loft, he had jumped in surprise when he saw Jim rise up from the sofa and face him, brow knotted in half anger and half concern. 

Jim had taken a moment to properly scan Sandburg, realising with a pang that he couldn’t remember the last time he had deliberately checked up on the younger mans’ physical condition, guiltily admitting to himself that he had been taking Blair and Blair’s presence in the loft for granted for weeks now, even well before the ‘diss’ fiasco. 

Blair’s skin was chilled and clammy, his hair beginning to frizz having obviously sat out in Cascade’s damp night air for some while, but the tremors running through the slender frame were as much due to nerves as to the cold. 

“So, you finally decided to come home, Chief” he growled. “I was beginning to wonder if you had decided to go off with your Mom to some retreat or other!” 

Noting with a certain malicious glee that Blair recoiled in hurt at his words, he was immediately ashamed of his own pettiness, but was shocked at Blair’s abrupt change of expression at his snide comment. 

Shifting from anxiety to fury, Blair responded in a voice rough and shaking with the deep distress he felt. 

“How dare you? How _dare_ you imply that I’d run away from you – from my responsibilities – without a word? How many ways do you have to show me that you _still_ don’t trust me? How many times must I prove myself to you, man! 

“Jeez, man, I came back from the **dead** for you, and I crucified myself for you! How dare you speak to me like that!” And Jim was totally taken aback by the naked emotion in the other man’s face. 

“Now wait a minute, Sandburg! I thought you said you understood about that episode, and my reactions to Alex. You said it was Sentinel-related, and didn’t talk about it again. And I didn’t _ask_ you to give that press conference!” 

“But you did expect me to clear up my mess though. And how you could accuse me of going for fame and fortune at your expense! That hurt, man. Really hurt. 

“And as for talking about the whole fountain and Mexico deal, well, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to, man” Blair continued more quietly, deflating as his short-lived burst of anger was replaced by resignation once again. 

“You just shut me up and shut me out when you said you weren’t ready to take that trip with me man, and I still think you feel the same way, despite the offer to become your official partner. 

“Because I think you know as well as I do, Jim, that it isn’t going to work” and he sighed unhappily as he read the mix of disbelief and aggravation on the older man’s face. 

“What makes you say that, Chief? Explain it to me, because I thought you were happy with the offer. Simon put a lot of effort into getting that badge, Sandburg!” 

“Oh Jim! Think about it, man! Look, you don’t know how much it means to me that the guys at MCU want me back, but you haven’t heard the other comments from the rest of the departments, man. Can we say that I’ve been told very forcibly, to my face and behind my back, that if I know what’s good for me, I’d better keep away from the PD and particularly from you, man. 

“And even if I did accept, think of how I’d be treated the first time in the witness box, Jim. A self-proclaimed liar and fraud. The defence would have a field day! 

“And I’m not sure I could carry, Jim” he added softly. “I still feel the same way about guns man, even if I have had to use one occasionally. 

“No, it was a nice thing for Simon to do, but I can’t accept. I’m sorry....” and he tailed off, suddenly exhausted emotionally and physically, and needing to sit down. 

As Jim sank down in the seat opposite, Blair glanced up to try and read the other man’s reaction to his words, and wasn’t surprised to see bewilderment warring with irritation. 

After a few minutes’ contemplation, Jim looked up to meet his Guide’s eyes, frowning in consternation as he asked, “But what will you do if you turn down the badge, Chief? What other job prospects can you have? You still need a place to live and a salary, and I still need you with me on the job!” 

And he was disconcerted at Blair’s response. 

“No you don’t, Jim. You haven’t needed me for some time, and you’ve told me more than once that you don’t need me to define who and what you are. But as to job prospects, man, I still have my Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees, and, if everything turns out as Jack Kelso plans, I’ll have a bit of money from Berkshire Publishing too--” 

“What are you talking about?” Jim interrupted angrily. “What do you mean, ‘Kelso’s plans?’ When were you going to let me in on your secrets, _Chief?_ ” 

This time, rather than respond in kind, Blair’s shoulders slumped even more as he murmured sadly, “Again with the trust thing! Man, do you really think I’d keep you in the dark about my plans? I only found out today about what Jack has been doing for me, and I was in no condition to bring the subject up in the bullpen this afternoon! He called me after I got back from clearing out my office, and I gotta say I’ve never been so grateful. With his help, I think I can actually get some sort of life back, and not have to burden you with my presence for much longer.” 

And this time it was Jim’s turn to feel resignation. And a feeling of self-reproach that really hurt. 

“OK, Chief. I’m sorry, alright? I know I jumped to the wrong conclusion again. I thought I was through with being so suspicious, but obviously not. 

“Anyhow, how about telling me what Kelso has come up with? And I promise I’ll try to keep my mouth shut” he finished with a wry grin. 

Relieved that Jim didn’t seem to be so angry any more, but not naive enough to imagine that that state of affairs would last indefinitely, Blair sighed deeply again and began. 

When he finally wound down and had explained what he had decided, he waited almost nervously for Jim’s reaction. The older man had kept his word and not interrupted during the narration, but his face was far from happy as he chose his words with care, not wanting to make the gulf between them any wider. 

“So, Chief, are you going to submit another diss? I mean, if you’ve only got a limited time in which to do it; is it feasible?” 

“Yeah, man, actually, it is. You remember when I said I had enough information for ten dissertations, but had been putting it off so I could keep riding with you? Well, that was true. And I had been putting the ‘Thin Blue Line’ thing together as a sort of backup, so it doesn’t really need much tidying up before I can submit it. 

“It’s nothing like as good as the ‘Sentinel’ diss, but I had already decided that I couldn’t submit that one. I was so proud of it, Jim, but I knew I had lost my objectivity, so it wasn’t ethical. I finished it because I wanted to give it to you, man. To help you. I still have the original copy stashed away, and I’d be glad to give it to you, along with all my notes and papers. I guess that’s why I didn’t take your name out, Jim. I wanted it to be for you; to show you what I really thought, not that clinical stuff that was in that first chapter you read.... 

“And then Mom has to go and interfere! I’m so sorry I didn’t consider her to be a risk, Jim. I mean, I told her she couldn’t read it, but it didn’t occur to me she’d send it off to Sid. I’m so sorry she was able to access the file. I had no idea she was computer savvy enough to get past my password protection! 

“Anyhow, I guess its water under the bridge now. The diss is yours, man, and I truly hope it will help you.” 

Looking at his friend and Guide, and really _seeing_ the genuine honesty and regret in Blair’s face, Jim finally understood what Blair had done for him, and was almost overwhelmed by the absolute love and commitment behind the act. 

“I wish you’d told me this when the shit hit the fan Chief. I wouldn’t have reacted the same, I’m sure!” 

“But Jim, I _tried,_ man, and you shut me down! Accused me of going for the brass ring! And even after the press conference, you avoided me, man! _When_ was I supposed to have clued you in on this? We barely spoke unless you count going after Zeller!” 

“It wasn’t just a book, was it?” 

“No, Jim, it wasn’t” 

“It really was your life, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah, Jim. It really was....” 

And finally recognising his self-centred blindness and intractable behaviour for what it was, Jim decided for once to Do The Right Thing – and, in so doing, broke his Guide’s heart.  


\-------------------------------  


**The loft, three weeks later:**  


A quiet and introspective Blair Sandburg let himself into the loft, glad for once that it was empty, Jim having returned to the PD for light duty the previous week. Dropping his keys in the basket by the door, he wandered disconsolately over to the kitchen to put on some fresh coffee, comparing how he felt right now to how he had imagined it should have been. 

He had just returned from Rainier, having defended his alternative dissertation on closed societies and having been advised immediately that it had been accepted. He was now Dr Blair Sandburg. Congratulations, don’t expect a formal presentation ceremony under the circumstances, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out. 

To say it was an anticlimax would be an understatement, and Blair honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. What should have been the proudest moment of his life turned out to be a farce, and he couldn’t help thinking that he could have submitted a shopping list and still been granted his doctorate, since it was pretty obvious his committee and the rest of the Anthropology Department just wanted him quietly gone. 

They weren’t about to forgive him for the bad publicity, even if it had ultimately been Chancellor Edwards’ fault, and the public apology wrung out of the Dean by Jack Kelso’s campaigning had left a bad taste in the academic mouth. 

Even Edwards had gotten away with a severe reprimand, and Blair sure didn’t ever want to meet up with her in a dark alley anywhere, because the look she had given him when their paths crossed that morning should have killed him stone dead. 

Bleakly fixing himself a cup of the fresh coffee, he wandered over to the balcony and looked out over the city, wondering if it was worth even mentioning his achievement to Jim, although he knew the other man would at least make the right noises on his behalf. 

Yes, Jim would declare himself to be happy for Blair, and would probably even spring for a meal and a few beers, but there was a distance between them now that Blair had no idea how to cross. It was the same with his friends in Major Crimes. He would have loved to go to the department and announce his news, but he found it so hard to face them now, especially Simon, after having turned down the offer of a badge. 

, they all sympathised with his explanations, and said they understood, but it was obvious that they felt snubbed, and the warm feeling of camaraderie he had enjoyed was muted. And many of the other cops still hadn’t forgiven him, despite the grudging apology from Rainer. As far as they were concerned, he had still managed to put one of their own on the spot with his thoughtlessness, and there were plenty who wondered about the truth of the matter, because wasn’t he still living with Ellison? 

Surely Jim should have thrown the little shit out on his ear the moment the so-called ‘Sentinel’ news broke? 

Realising this, and knowing that it really wasn’t a good idea for him to draw attention to himself, he resigned himself to keeping well away from the PD until he left Cascade. 

Because that was what he intended to do now, with Jim’s apparent blessing....  


\----------------------  


Sipping his coffee, Blair continued to gaze out towards the waterfront as he recalled the conversation he and Jim had had the morning after the badge offer. 

He knew that Jim had sat up long after they had argued on his return that night, and he himself had gotten precious little sleep, tossing and turning in his little room, wanting so much to go out to Jim, but sure that his efforts would be wasted, the older man having made it very obvious that he had some serious thinking to do - alone. 

The following morning, a tired and dispirited pair picked half-heartedly at their breakfast toast and eggs, both knowing that they had to continue the previous night’s discussion, but neither wanting to start the ball rolling. 

Eventually, however, Jim gave up all pretence of eating, and pushed his half-empty plate away with a sigh, saying, “I guess we’re both a bit frazzled right now, huh, Chief? Look, let’s get the cleanup done, then we can discuss some sort of timeline for you. I mean, you’ll be wanting to get that other diss in a.s.a.p, and I’d really like to hear some more about your plans once you get the settlement money. I expect you’ll be glad to get out of Cascade....” 

“Um, actually, Jim, that’s the last thing on my mind at the moment. I mean, sure, I’m going to take Rainier up on their offer to let me submit the alternative diss – I think they owe me that – but I hadn’t made any hard and fast decisions about what I’ll do once I’ve paid off my student loans. I know the badge offer is a no-go, but I still want to be around just in case you need me....” 

“No, Chief! No need, really!” replied Jim, altogether too heartily. “You really don’t need to worry about me anymore. After all, if I do have the occasional problem, Connor knows what’s what now with the senses, so she can help me out if necessary. 

“No, Chief. Go out into the wide world and follow your dreams” and he turned away from his stunned friend, completely missing the devastation on Sandburg’s face as Blair realised once and for all that their partnership was done, and Jim was politely sending him on his way.  


\-------------------------  


In the ensuing days, they had settled into a routine whereby Blair worked hard at finishing the final draft of his dissertation, and Jim concentrated on his fitness training so he could get back to work as soon as he was declared healthy enough. 

There were no more arguments – indeed, they were positively civilised – conversing politely and working around each other with a mechanical familiarity which was completely lacking in intimacy. It was almost as if the past four years of getting to know one another had never happened, because Blair was certain that he didn’t know this Jim Ellison. 

The older man was helpful, supportive and undemanding, letting Blair concentrate on his writing and making himself scarce by visiting the gym in between his PT appointments. 

And then he had been passed fit for light duties, so he could escape to Major Crimes and the support of his friends and colleagues, leaving a lonely and depressed Guide behind, wearily contemplating the path his life would now be following. 

As Blair grimaced at the thought of Jim’s barely-contained relief at his return to duty, he thought back to two days’ previously when his settlement money had arrived. As Jack Kelso predicted, it wasn’t megabucks, but it was a comfortable sum. Enough to leave him with a reasonable grubstake for whatever enterprise he decided to undertake after he had cleared all his loans. 

He had been quietly excited as he told Jim, but his excitement dimmed when the older man’s responses were merely dutifully polite, and he realised that Jim was simply marking time to when he could get his annoying roommate out of his apartment and his life. 

In actual fact, he couldn’t have been more mistaken. Jim was feeling far from disinterested, and saw the arrival of the cheque as one more step towards Blair leaving him, but he had made his decision, and he was determined to stand by it. His Guide deserved a chance at a life outside of being tied to an ageing cop, and Jim was going to make sure he got one, whether he liked it or not. 

And now it had happened. Blair had his doctorate, his money, and a future, and he had never felt so bereft in all his life, even counting the times Naomi had left him behind when she wanted to travel alone. 

Sighing once again, Blair turned back to re-enter the loft, rinsing out his coffee cup before picking up the telephone to call his Mom, because he had things he needed to discuss.  


\-----------------------------  


**Part 2: Five years later:**  


**Jim:**  


Jim grimaced in irritation as he signed off the report on his desk, rubbing his forehead in automatic response to the low-grade headache that had been plaguing him all day. 

Scowling at the seemingly never-ending pile of paperwork in his ‘In Tray’, he was in too bad of a mood to recognise that the pile in the ‘Out Tray’ was way bigger, and testament to his assiduous concentration since his arrival at Major Crimes this morning. 

He knew that the nagging pain was not due to anything to do with his senses, because he had barely used them since Blair left Cascade, not wanting anyone else to try to step into his erstwhile Guide’s shoes. And as the desire to utilise his gifts was gone, eventually they seemed to just fade away, so that now he hardly ever gave them a thought. 

When Blair had packed up and gone, five years ago now, he took Jim’s heart with him, and any reason Jim had for trying to retain his Sentinel abilities. 

He knew very well that he had at least partially regressed to the gruff, taciturn loner he had been BS – Before Sandburg – and he grinned wryly to himself at the thought. He had clung to his career, however, still effective as a detective with or without his heightened senses, but more than ready for a change, which had arrived unexpectedly with Simon Banks’ decision to take early retirement. 

Simon had found it increasingly difficult to maintain his role as MCU’s Captain, for the simple reason that his injury resulting from Zeller’s bullet had caused way more long-term complications than had been anticipated; and constant discomfort had finally forced him to opt for an easier life. But not before he had managed to persuade his old friend to apply for – and be granted – the Captaincy in his place. 

So now Jim was Captain of Major Crimes, much less active in the field, but a proven success nevertheless, recognised for his attention to detail, outstanding leadership qualities, and a formidable departmental arrest and conviction rate. However, he wryly conceded that he would never be known for his diplomatic handling of higher ranking officers and elected, rather than capable, local political figures, so he had no expectations of advancing any further, and the realisation troubled him not at all. 

All in all he knew that he should be satisfied with his lot, but on days like this he still missed his Guide. He knew he would be returning to an empty loft, as he had done for the last five years. A loft that barely retained any trace of his Guide’s comforting scent and physical presence, unless one counted the artefacts that Blair had left behind as a gift ‘to remember him by’. And how he missed that in retrospect. He never could have envisaged actually pining for the incessant chatter, smelly homeopathic medicines and weird foodstuffs. He would even have smiled at the messy, wet-towel-littered bathroom if it meant that Blair was back with him – back where he belonged. 

But it wasn’t to be. And it was his own fault. He knew that now, and accepted it. 

For so long he had hidden behind the pitiful excuse of ‘fear-based responses’ and the stubborn belief that everyone he allowed to get close would ultimately betray him. And because of that, he had pushed, reviled, and pushed again until Blair had had no option but to leave and live up to Jim’s expectations. 

Mind you, Jim had been very careful about it in the final few days, having come to terms with his own failures and schooling himself to ‘detach with love’ to quote Blair’s ditzy Mom. 

And he had been so wrong. He knew that also, when it was too late. 

Unwillingly, he recalled once again that final morning. Blair standing at the door, gazing wistfully around him at the loft, then turning his beautiful eyes to Jim, almost begging the older man to say something – _do_ something - to give him a reason to stay. 

But Jim had been so sure he was doing right by letting Blair go. Letting him lead his own life far away from a Sentinel so reluctant to embrace his ‘gifts’ that he constantly railed at the one person who understood him – and who had spent years trying to help him. Oh yes, Jim knew very well who was the real betrayer – and it wasn’t Sandburg. 

Sighing deeply, Jim rubbed at his forehead once again, deliberately pushing aside his train of thought since it was ultimately useless. 

Just then there was a knock at his door, and Henri Brown – or H’s - round and smiling face peeked in. 

“Hey, Cap! You still OK for poker around at Rafe’s tonight? Sharleen’s got some modelling gig going, so I think our friend is looking forward to a little down-time!” 

Laughing at the picture H’s words conjured up, Jim replied, “Sure! I’m looking forward to it – but I‘m thinking that at times like these Rafe’s probably regretting leaving the PD. After all, a demanding job in the rag trade and a new wife who’s pushing to be the latest ‘Face’ for Gucci can’t be easy to deal with. Bet right now he’s missing you, H, old buddy!” 

“Yeah, you could be right at that, Cap, but we should have a good time anyhow. Simon’s coming, and young Donovan. Even Joel has said he’ll come if he can. If Megan hadn’t gone back to Oz, and Hairboy was still here, it’d be just like old times!” 

However, seeing the immediate reaction his words had on his Captain and friend, H chastised himself for his tactlessness, and sought fruitlessly for some way of changing the subject 

Letting his detective off the hook, Jim pulled himself together and replied, “It’s OK, H. Don’t take any notice f me. It’s just one of those days when I seem to miss him more than usual” and he knew that H knew exactly what he meant. 

Face assuming a more serious expression, H enquired quietly, “Have you heard from him at all, Jim? Is he still travelling?” 

“To be honest, I don’t know, H. After Blair left, he wrote to me, or sent me postcards. He even emailed me a few times to let me know what he was doing and asking how we all were. But I just couldn’t find the words to answer, and I guess he took that as a hint that I didn’t want to keep in touch, and his letters stopped, about three years ago, I think. But I admit I still miss him, and I search on the internet every so often to see if he’s made the news again....” 

“I get it, Cap. And we all miss him, you know. I’m just sorry I upset you by mentioning Hairboy again. I should know better....” 

“Hey, it’s OK, H! And I really am looking forward to the poker, so see you tonight” and Jim dredged up a smile which was very nearly convincing in its sincerity.  


\--------------------------  


When Jim returned to the loft, having genuinely enjoyed his poker evening with his old friends, he sat for a while in the soothing darkness, thinking about Blair, and wondering why today of all days the younger man was on his mind so much. 

True, he frequently thought about Blair, usually on occasions when something odd occurred, or someone said something of interest, and he would even now automatically think, ‘I must tell Sandburg’, or ‘I wonder what Blair’ll make of that?’ 

Sometimes he even half-expected his Guide to emerge from his old bedroom under the stairs, hair every which way, beard-stubbled and sleepy, making a bee-line for the coffee machine for his much-needed morning caffeine fix. He hadn’t had the heart to clear out the small space, telling himself that perhaps Blair might drop in for a visit some time, even as he knew that was hardly likely since he had failed to respond to Blair’s correspondence. 

He did know that Blair had gone on at least one expedition, and as far as he knew, hadn’t returned to academia as such, choosing to write well-received articles for popular archaeology and anthropology magazines and apparently working on some sort of anthropology volume based on his travels. This much he had gleaned from Naomi the only time he had made an effort to contact her; feeling lonely and needing to know what Blair was up to. 

Needless to say, Blair’s Mom was less than happy to speak to him, still not having forgiven him for blaming Blair for the diss mess, especially as the fault had been mostly hers. Likewise, despite her relief that Blair had turned down the offer to join the ranks of the ‘pigs’, she knew how heartsick her son had been when Jim had broken their partnership, having had to put considerable effort into helping Blair pick up the pieces of his shattered dreams. 

Replaying the stilted conversation, Jim recalled his trepidation as he had dialled the number he had traced for Naomi’s most recent location, half hoping that there would be no answer, and almost putting the handset down again after the first couple of rings. 

“Hello, Nirvana Spiritual Enlightenment Group. How can I help you?” 

“Um, my name is Detective Jim Ellison, ma’am. Do you have a Naomi Sandburg staying with you? Um, I know her son, and I wondered if I could speak to her?” 

“Well, we don’t usually encourage outside contact, Detective, but if it’s urgent, I can see if she will speak to you....” 

“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it” and he had waited for long minutes until a well-remembered voice said icily, “What do you want, Jim? Blair’s not here, and I have no intention of telling you where he is.” 

“No, no, Naomi, I realise that. And I know you don’t want me to contact him, but I just need to know how he is. I mean, he did write to me, but I haven’t replied--” 

“And you want to pump me for information instead. I see. Well, I suppose it won’t do any harm to tell you he’s doing just fine, since you sound genuinely concerned. 

“Blair’s travelling, Jim. He went on an extended expedition after he left Cascade, after staying with me for a while to get himself together” she added, her tone censorious, letting him know just how hurt Blair had been. 

“Anyway, when he got back, he contacted me again, and told me he’d decided to write a book about the places and communities he encountered during our travels together. Not an autobiography, but an anthropological text which he thinks might be more interesting to students because it is based on first-hand experience. 

“So, using his own journals, and my diaries, he’s travelling to as many places as he can to relive the memories, and compare his observations from past and present. 

“And I think I’ve told you quite enough, Jim.” 

“OK, Naomi. And thank you. I really appreciate you bothering to speak to me. You probably won’t believe me, but I did – do - love your son. It wasn’t easy to let him go”. 

“Then why did you, Jim? He worshipped the ground you walked on – still does, as far as I know. Goddess knows I didn’t want him to become a cop, but you two had such a connection – which I realise now was as Sentinel and Guide whatever Blair said in denial– I just can’t understand how you could have thrown him away like that.” 

“Because I thought it was the right thing to do, Naomi. Perhaps I was wrong, but I thought he deserved another chance at a life without me holding him back...” 

And this time he detected a note of real sympathy in Naomi’s tone as she replied softly, “Then you’re a fool, Jim, to yourself and to my son. You should have clung to each other – recognised your partnership for what it was. A true joining of souls, Jim. 

“Take care of yourself for Blair’s sake, and goodbye” and she put the phone down before he could respond further.  


\-------------------------  


Sitting alone in the dark, Jim gradually became convinced that he would soon see Sandburg again. He didn’t know _why_ he was so certain, but the feeling was there and growing. And this time, whenever and wherever it was, he was going to be honest, and ask Blair’s forgiveness. 

And if it was meant to be, and his Guide still loved him as deeply as Naomi had claimed years ago, they would be together again and Jim swore to himself that he would never let Blair go.   


\------------------------------  


**Blair:**  


Blair climbed a little stiffly out of his pre-owned hybrid SUV, stretching luxuriously to get the kinks out of his back and neck. It had been a long drive across country to the small mid-western town of Butler’s Crossing, but no longer than many of his previous trips over the past few years. He grinned wryly to himself at the thought that to the child Blair, sometimes journeys with his itinerant Mom had seemed interminable, and that wasn’t counting the trips they made to various far-flung foreign destinations such as Goa, Tibet and New Zealand. 

He gazed around with interest, trying to recall details of the tiny town square where he had parked up, and pleased to see that the general layout had barely changed in the almost thirty years since he had attended the local school, even though he and Naomi had only spent a few months here, according to the information in their combined journals. 

He did know for a fact, though, that the commune where they had lived outside of town had now become an up-market resort and ‘Dude Ranch’ – a far different concept than the self-sufficient hippy community that founded it. 

But as far as he was concerned, that was what made the location so pertinent to his ongoing writing project: the fact that new external social and cultural needs and wants had replaced those of the past but without significantly altering the core community. 

Running his hand through his short curls, he basked for a few moments in the somewhat dusty warmth of the summer evening before deciding that he may as well check in to the family-run Bed and Breakfast place where he had booked to stay for however long it took him to complete this chapter of his study. Once he had done that, he wanted to take a stroll around the town, jotting down his observations, and planning his agenda for the next few days. 

Reaching into the trunk of the car for his bookbag and single suitcase, he crossed the square and entered the B and B, smiling cheerfully, and winning himself a similar reaction from the kindly middle aged lady who came out to greet him. 

“Well, good evening, young man! You must be Dr Sandburg, am I right? I have to confess I was expecting someone much older--” 

“And drier?” finished Blair with a quirky grin. “Don’t worry, I always get that response, but I assure you I’m not as young as I look!” 

“Oh you!” replied the woman, blushing fetchingly. “Now I know you’re going to shatter all my misconceptions! You could surely sweet-talk your way out of any situation! 

“Anyhow, welcome to our home, and I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us.” 

“I’m sure I shall, Mrs Challenor,” replied Blair, and stood aside gallantly to let her lead him to his cosy room. 

An hour or so later saw Blair enjoying a home-cooked meal in a tiny restaurant not far from his B and B, recommended by his landlady, and certainly living up to her claims. 

From there, he wandered around the virtually empty streets for a while, before returning to the B and B to relax on his tiny balcony, nursing a beer, and luxuriating in a few hours of contemplation. 

Sighing deeply, he looked up into the night sky, seeing that the stars were so much clearer here, despite the muted street lighting. The fact that Butler’s Crossing was so small and relatively remote meant that one could appreciate the heavens to a far greater extent than in the city, and he idly wondered what a Sentinel like Jim would make of it. 

And instantly his good mood was swamped in a familiar despair, despite years of schooling himself to ignore it. 

Shit! It wasn’t fair! Why couldn’t he just get over his hurt and get on with his life? He’d thought he was doing so well, but then a stray thought would sneak up on him and ambush him all over again. 

Unable to prevent it, his thoughts fled back to the past, but at the last moment he managed to slam the mental brakes on and halt at the point where he could bear to remember. 

Breathing heavily, and concentrating on finding his centre, he gradually relaxed and recalled the moment when Eli had contacted him out of the blue....  


\------------------------  


Blair had been staying with Naomi for several weeks after leaving Cascade, working hard on getting himself together enough to decide on an acceptable course of action to take back his life _sans_ Jim. 

He had been amazed to pick up the phone and hear his old mentor’s voice, enquiring kindly as regards his health, and asking that they meet up in Seattle to discuss an upcoming project as it was a convenient point in his ongoing lecture tour. 

Almost against his will, Blair found himself agreeing, hoping against hope that he wasn’t setting himself up for more hurt and disappointment, and travelling to Seattle for a meeting with Dr Eli Stoddard – anthropologist _extraordinaire_ as far as Blair was concerned, and his hero and mentor ever since being accepted at Rainier at the tender age of nearly sixteen. 

As soon as he had walked into Eli’s hotel lobby, the older man had greeted him cheerfully, leading him to a quiet bar area where they could talk in private. 

Once seated, and with a drink in hand, Eli fixed his nervous former student with an assessing gaze. 

“Read your dissertation, my boy. Very competent indeed. Congratulations! But I suspect lacking in the enthusiasm of the original, eh?” 

When Blair opened his mouth to trot out the customary denial, Eli turned a speculative glare on him, although his eyes were alight with harmless mischief as he continued, waving an admonishing finger in Blair’s face. 

“Now, my boy, whatever else you may claim to be, a liar and a fraud you are not! Enough said! And as for your second topic, well, ‘sufficient unto the day’ as someone said – although I can’t for the life of me remember who it was....! 

“Anyhow, about my upcoming expedition. Are you free to be my assistant?” and the Sentinel topic was tactfully dismissed once and for all between them, and Blair found himself gratefully agreeing to accompany his mentor on another expedition – but not to Borneo.  


\---------------------  


Eighteen months later a tanned, fit and superficially restored Blair returned to the States, having thrown himself with an almost frenzied enthusiasm into the practical side of his chosen field of study, delighting his fellow students and Eli also. 

The time away had not only reaffirmed and restored much of his confidence in his academic worth, but had given him plenty of opportunity to consider what he wanted to do with his life on his return, and he was sure now that it didn’t include seeking out a teaching position or tenure in some college or other, at least for the near future. 

Yes, he had enjoyed teaching, and the buzz of knowing he had inspired a young mind to embrace anthropology as a chosen subject was still there, but less so now, thanks to the sobering episodes such as the Ventriss case which had disillusioned him so badly. 

After nights of illuminating and fascinating discussion with Eli, he had hit upon the idea of writing a study based on personal experience – although modesty prevented him from even considering it as an autobiography. 

And from a personal point of view, it had been a huge success. 

By revisiting his old haunts and casual childhood stopping places, he was able to see them and his past life in a different perspective. Not necessarily a happy one, but enlightening nevertheless, and a means by which he could begin to understand himself and what made him what he was. It was both sobering and comforting, and he knew he would be sorry when his tour and his writing project were finally complete. 

It was almost unimportant as to whether it became an anthropology ‘best-seller’. It had served its purpose in helping him focus on something other than his Sentinel fixation, and for that he was extremely grateful. 

So, here he was – in Butler’s Crossing. The place where he had the strangest feeling that he had made some enormous, youthful discovery. And now he needed to figure out just what that discovery had been, and what had instigated it.  


\------------------  


Despite not being a ‘morning person’, Blair could and did get up bright and early when necessary, and his enthusiasm for his project was enough to bring him downstairs at a reasonable hour to enjoy a satisfying breakfast even though he had relatively little sleep the night before. 

Truth be told, that was also something he was well used to by now, as it was during the long hours of darkness when his customary loneliness hit him hardest, and he would toss and turn, fruitlessly trying not to recall the comfort and satisfaction he had enjoyed during the period pre-Alex when he had come to consider the loft as his first real home. 

And when his admiration for and friendship with Detective Ellison the Sentinel had morphed into love for Jim the man. 

Resolutely clamping down on his useless thoughts, he smiled at Mrs Challenor as the friendly and garrulous lady poured him some fresh coffee. 

“That was a great breakfast, Mrs Challenor. Thank you. I was wondering, do you happen to know if there is a good collection of local history in the library? It seems like a good place for me to start making notes for my chapter on Butler’s Crossing. And hopefully will jog my memory from when I stayed here as a child.” 

“Well, yes, there are a few locally written books and leaflets there, and Moira – our librarian – has put together quite a nice little display of pictures and items from the town over the years. And she could probably give you a few names of older residents who have good memories!” the kindly woman replied. 

“I mean, most folks here were born and bred in the neighbourhood, and have watched the community grow. Not that there have been many changes though! We all tend to stay put and I have to admit that this is the kind of place that keeps itself very much to itself. But then again, I’m sure you probably know that already! 

“Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get on with clearing up, and I hope you enjoy your day exploring the town” and with another smile, she bustled into the kitchen, leaving Blair to finish his coffee and return to his room to gather his notebook before heading off to the library to begin his study. 

Once in the small library building, Blair introduced himself to the librarian, who looked vaguely familiar. A thin, severe-looking woman of around the same age as Blair, she introduced herself as Moira Gunnerson, and Blair grinned as he remembered the name. 

“You know, I’m sure I remember you! You were in the same class at school – not that I stayed for long. How are you?” 

“Why, now I recognise you! When Chloe Challenor told me a Dr Sandburg was coming to write about Butler’s Crossing, it never occurred to me that it was the Blair Sandburg from the hippy commune! My, you have done well for yourself! 

“Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised” she continued with a rueful smile. “You were so much brighter than all us local kids, I think we all hated you! And I’m sorry about that. But children can be so cruel...” and her face fell in remorse. 

“It’s OK, Moira” responded Blair gently, understanding only too well what she meant, and appreciating her apology for times past. “It wasn’t the first time, or the last. I guess it was hardly surprising that I’d stick out like a sore thumb, but what’s done is done, and I really do want to see the town from an adult perspective. So, can I see your local history display?” And he smiled at her, banishing her momentary guilt, and seeing her light up with enthusiasm as she led him over to the tiny side room where a surprisingly large number of books, papers and artefacts were collected in a colourful and carefully considered exhibit. 

“There you go, Dr Sandburg. Take as much time as you want, and I’ll try to answer any questions you have!” 

“It’s Blair, please” he replied, “And thanks, Moira. This is really good. Your work?” 

And she blushed in pleasure as she nodded, adding, “Oh, by the way, Steven Jensen, the teacher is still alive, and very active for his age. You might want to go and pick his brains for information, as there’s not much he doesn’t know about the town.” 

“Thanks, Moira, I will!” and Blair settled down to go through the exhibit, excited at the prospect of meeting his old teacher once again.  


\------------------------  


Several hours later, Blair finished looking through the exhibit, and left in search of Mr Jensen, having thanked Moira profusely for her time and help in sorting through the most relevant information. Almost preening at his genuine appreciation, and completely won over by his innate charm, the librarian had provided Blair with the retired teacher’s address, and wished him luck with his investigation. 

Since Mr Jensen’s house was only a couple of miles away on the outskirts of the town, Blair decided to walk there, wanting to take the opportunity to observe the neighbourhood and soak up the atmosphere as well as getting some gentle exercise whilst enjoying the pleasantly warm and dry weather. 

Smiling and responding cheerfully to the several greetings he received from passersby, Blair reached Jensen’s house, which turned out to be a small but well-maintained two storey cottage, complete with cream-coloured sidings, a neat front yard and the compulsory white picket fence. 

Grinning to himself at the quaint picture, Blair was about to open the gate into the yard when the front door opened to reveal a sprightly, white-haired man in his early to mid eighties, whose heavily-lined and somewhat lugubrious face suddenly broke out into an affable smile, which had the effect of making the faded blue eyes twinkle with intelligence. 

“I was expecting you, Dr Sandburg!” said Steven Jensen, walking carefully but steadily towards Blair, hand held out in welcome. 

“Young Moira called me to let me know you were in the neighbourhood, and I’m very glad you came to call. Please come in and make yourself at home” and he took Blair’s arm in a friendly grip and led him into a neat but well-lived-in front room which plainly served as den-cum-library-cum-living room. Blair suspected that Jensen was probably comfortable taking his meals in there also, surrounded by his books and favourite objects. 

Indicating a worn but comfortable overstuffed armchair, the older man said, “Please be seated, Dr Sandburg. Or may I call you Blair? I remember you well, young man, and it’s good to see you again. Would you like some tea?” 

And Blair, finding himself a little emotional at the teacher’s kindness and obvious pleasure, thanked him with a smile, taking the opportunity of using the few minutes during which Jensen put the kettle on to boil to pull himself together, and then gazed around the cosy room with interest. 

When Jensen returned with the tea and a plateful of cookies, he seated himself opposite his guest, still smiling in approval as he studied his former pupil. 

“You know, I always hoped I’d see you again, young man. You were such a breath of fresh air to me back then. I know it probably sounds very unprofessional of me, but I do admit teaching was growing tedious for me, simply because I never had any really bright students to work with and stimulate my own enthusiasm. Unfortunately, it’s one of the down-sides to living one’s life in such a tiny community. 

“Any children clever or ambitious enough to seek new horizons usually managed to get themselves sent away to private boarding schools if their parents could afford it. And if they couldn’t, I’d do my best to help them apply for grants and scholarships. 

“But the majority had no interest above working on the family farm or managing the family business; and marrying the boy or girl next door. 

“Not that that’s a bad thing, don’t get me wrong! There’s something to be said for self-contained communities like this, as I’m sure you’ll agree as an anthropologist. 

“But it offers no challenge to a small-town teacher like me. One who, by his own admission, lacked the drive to seek those new horizons for himself” and he chuckled self-deprecatingly. 

“So I really sat up and took notice when you joined our ranks, young Blair, as did the rest of the class, for sure. I know you weren’t with us long, more’s the pity, but that class still stands out as the highest achieving group of students I ever taught, and I’m sure it was because you stimulated them to perform above their expectations.” 

When Blair shook his head in silent denial, blushing at the compliment, the old man simply patted his knee and nodded briskly before continuing. 

“Anyway, I don’t mean to embarrass you, young man, and I know you have questions to ask me about our local history, but there’s just one more thing I like to know, if you don’t mind telling me?” And when Blair nodded in slightly bemused agreement, he said, “Did you ever find any of your special people, Blair?” 

And, just like that, the memories came flooding back. Of course! The ‘food’ project! The shelled walnut halves looking so like human brains as they lay in the seven year old Blair’s hand, and the ideas and connections stimulated by the similarity. The very thought caused the younger man to jerk upright in his seat, blanching dramatically as he relived the excitement and amazement of his childhood epiphany. 

After long moments during which his continuing silence and shocked expression began to cause Jensen no little concern, the older man squeezed Blair’s knee saying worriedly, “Are you alright my boy? Have I upset you? I assure you I meant no harm, Blair!” 

Shaking himself firmly, Blair pulled out of his funk, forcing a smile as he said, “I’m sorry, Mr Jensen. I’m fine, honestly. It’s just that I hadn’t thought of that project in years. It triggered a lot of memories. I simply can’t understand how I could have forgotten! 

“But, to answer your question, yes, I did find special people. People who had an enhanced sense, or even two. People who became wine tasters, or crack shots, or virtuoso musicians, or perhaps worked for perfumers. And I wrote about others found in pre-industrialised societies also who were tribal watchmen and scouts...” But he wasn’t about to mention his own latter-day Sentinel. Jim’s secret had to remain just that, and the passage of time had made the omission automatic. 

“Ah yes, of course! Your Master’s thesis! I have a copy here!” And, suitably distracted, the older man rose from his seat and carefully pulled out an obviously well-read paperback volume, holding it out to Blair in triumph. 

And Blair blushed in embarrassment all over again when Jensen asked him to sign it for him....  


\----------------------  


Some while later Blair made his way back to his room at the Bed and Breakfast, still deep in thought and needing to process all the stirred up emotions and ideas scampering around in his head. The more prosaic part of his consciousness noted that it was early evening and that he hadn’t actually eaten since breakfast, unless you counted tea and cookies at Steven Jensen’s, but Blair didn’t feel a pressing need for sustenance just yet. He was thoroughly engaged in a major crisis of confidence, knowing instinctively that decisions made and acted upon now would define his life from hereon in. 

The rest of his visit with Mr Jensen had passed pleasantly enough, and the older man had eagerly supplied Blair with plenty of facts and anecdotes about Butler’s Crossing, all of which Blair dutifully recorded with convincing enthusiasm. He knew that the teacher was glad to be of help, and Blair appreciated his input very much. However, he also recognised that his own concentration on the topic was for once less than one hundred percent, a large part of his mind mulling over the implications of Jensen’s unwitting stimulus regarding ‘special people’ and where his thoughts and instincts led him from here. 

Eventually their conversation had wound down, and Jensen had seen him on his way with a cheerful farewell, obviously satisfied and happy to have connected with his erstwhile pupil once more. 

But now Blair felt unsettled again, his stability once again compromised by the spectre of missed opportunities and unattainable dreams.  


\------------------------  


Back in his room, once again seated on his balcony with a bottle of cold beer, Blair gave himself permission to return to the forbidden topic of Sentinels, and Jim in particular. 

He had been more than a little distracted when he arrived back at the B and B, enough so that his landlady had questioned him worriedly if he felt quite well. Having assured Mrs Challenor that he was absolutely fine, and no, he didn’t require dinner, although a sandwich might be nice later, he retired to his room to process. 

Ever since leaving Cascade he had resolutely avoided his chosen topic, trying hard to concentrate on creating a new path for himself. True, he had still thought about Jim, but as a man rather than a Sentinel, and mourned the loss of someone he had considered to be his best friend. 

When all his attempts at corresponding with the detective had met with stony silence, he had swallowed his disappointment and, grasping Eli’s expedition offer with eager hands, schooled himself over the intervening period to ignore the cold and empty part deep within his heart where Jim had once resided, believing that the other man had no desire to maintain their relationship even at the most superficial level. 

A return to his itinerant lifestyle, and his self-imposed writing project had almost succeeded in anaesthetising the worst of his loneliness and diverting him away from hopeless thoughts of reuniting with the man who had unwittingly captured his love, but this chance meeting with his old teacher had reignited his dreams and his interest in a topic that he now knew had been an intrinsic part of his life from a far earlier age than he had realised. 

Whenever he had discussed his interest in Sentinels, he had always maintained that it was sparked by reading Sir Richard Burton’s study ‘The Sentinels of Paraguay’ at around twelve years of age, believing it to be the truth. 

But now he realised that he had been unconsciously seeking them way before that. The mere mention of the ‘walnut project’ as he now dubbed it caused him to remember his childhood fascination with ‘special people’. People who he was later to identify as Sentinels. 

And he knew now that to deny that interest was to deny the greater part of him. The part that was predestined to be a Sentinel’s companion. A Guide. 

Jim’s Guide. 

But where did that leave him? He couldn’t possibly return to studying individuals who, thanks to the ‘diss mess’, by his own admission no longer existed in modern society. He had denied their existence to protect Jim, and he couldn’t backtrack now. The apology from Rainier had only been for releasing the Sentinel material without his permission, and admitting publicly that he had never actually submitted his work as his dissertation. 

He had deliberately chosen not to disabuse anyone of his claim that it was fiction. 

But he needed to be true to himself. For his own sake, and, he now believed, for Jim’s also, he had to at least try to bridge the gulf between them, and pray that he wasn’t setting himself up for yet more pain, because he knew his already wounded heart couldn’t take any more. 

Mind made up, he took himself off to bed, knowing that in the morning he was going to cut short his stay in Butler’s Crossing, and drive back to Cascade and, hopefully, his destiny.  


\--------------------------  


**Same evening, the loft, 852 Prospect, Cascade:**  


Jim wandered restlessly around his living room, clutching a beer in his hand, but unable to decide what, if anything he actually wanted for dinner. He certainly couldn’t be bothered to fix anything for himself, so just had to make up his mind what type of takeout he fancied. 

It had been a pretty awful day, and he was glad to get back to the loft, but he still felt unsettled, and was all too aware of the reason why. It had been the sort of day he hated, involving him having to play nice with the Chief of Police and the Mayor – something he was ill-equipped to do despite his success as MCU’s Captain. He simply couldn’t bring himself to tap dance to their tune with equanimity, finding the political double-talk wearing and facile, but knowing he had no option but to listen and at least try to look like he understood or cared. 

With a rueful grin, he thought once again how much he admired Simon Banks’ ability to finagle with the best. The man surely had been gifted with the sort of acting ability Jim simply did not possess – and truth be told, didn’t want to. 

In all honesty, the day hadn’t been all bad. H and his new partner Pete Donovan had made good progress on a couple of big cases, and Jim had enjoyed a pleasant lunch with Joel Taggart. 

Joel had retired a couple of years ago now, but was happy to keep in touch with Jim and his other friends in the PD, and was a welcome guest at police functions, including the long-established MCU poker nights. 

And he was the one person with whom Jim felt really at ease talking about Blair and how much he missed the younger man. 

Sure, his other friends used to ask after Blair for a while after he left, but they soon stopped, only mentioning him in passing, and then never in Jim’s presence if they could help it for fear of upsetting their colleague. Like Joel, Megan had had a real soft spot for Blair, but Jim hadn’t really been bothered to keep in touch with her after her return to Australia. And Simon had never really forgiven Blair for turning down his offer of a badge and, in his opinion, running out on his partner, which left Joel as his sole confidant. 

“So, Jim” said Joel, as they seated themselves comfortably in a booth at Barney’s Irish Bar. 

“How’s things in MCU? I heard H and Pete had found more evidence in the Madison gun-running case, and I don’t need to be psychic to work out that you’ve been meeting the Chief this morning! You always have a particular expression after you’ve seen him and the Mayor – sort of like you’ve got a bad smell in your nose!” and he chuckled gently, smiling into Jim’s eyes. 

“Yeah, you got that right!” returned Jim, with a wry grin of his own. “How Simon used to deal with those idiots and stay sane beats me! But it has to be done, and for the rest of the time, I’m happy enough. Although I do miss working in the field sometimes. It’s just not the same without Blair....” and he tailed off, face taking on a wistful expression. 

Nodding in sympathy, Joel replied, “Have you heard anything recently, Jim? The last I read was a news item in an on-line anthropology ‘zine, which said there was considerable interest in some study he was working on. But that was a month or so ago now.” 

“No, I haven’t heard anything, Joel. Which is entirely my fault for not replying to his letters and emails. But it’s the strangest thing. You’ll probably think I’m nuts – and you’d be right! But ever since poker night last week, I’ve had the weirdest feeling that I’m going to see him soon! Now, why is that? I can’t explain it, Joel, but I’m so sure....” 

“Well, far be it for me to contradict you, Jim! You and Blair always had a real connection thing going, and I just wish things hadn’t turned out as they did. I really miss that boy, and I know you do too. That regression to ‘Hard-ass Ellison’ didn’t fool me one bit, son!” 

And Jim laughed self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, I know! Worked on everyone else though, except perhaps Simon! But I miss him so much, Joel, and I know I was wrong now to send him on his way like I did. I’m just praying that he’ll come back some day so I can tell him – explain why I did it.” 

“Then I’m sure he will, old friend. I think he’ll know, wherever he is. And when he comes back this time, it’s up to all of his friends to let him know how much he’s been missed....”  


\--------------------------  


Pushing open the doors to step out onto his balcony, Jim recalled the conversation with his friend, and wondered for the umpteenth time whether Joel really _did_ know about the ‘sentinel stuff’, or whether he had just accepted Jim and Blair for what they were – or seemed to be on the surface – a great partnership and more than friends. 

Either way, it didn’t matter, because he knew he could trust Joel, and it was kind of comforting to think that someone other than Megan and Simon knew the truth. 

Gazing out towards the waterfront, just as Blair had done so many years ago, if he did but realise it, he pondered on how his senses had returned to normal soon after Blair had left him. It was almost as if without his friend and Guide to ground him, the heightened capability had gradually shut down in self-defence such that after the first few Blair-less days, the potential to zone disappeared. And with it a good proportion of the pleasure Jim had grown accustomed to feeling in a job well done. 

Not that he didn’t still enjoy his work, and the fear of being ambushed by his senses seemed to be a thing of the past now, but he found out the hard way that the old saying was true. What you never had, you never missed, but he was shocked to find that he actually did miss being able to cast his vision out so far he could see the individual feathers on the gulls wheeling over the water, and hear the conversations of the fishermen on the quayside....  


\-------------------------  


**Saturday morning, the loft, Cascade:**  


Two days later saw an unsettled and hyper Jim attempting to divert his mind and excess energy away from his twitchy and anxious mood by dint of cleaning the loft from top to bottom. 

He had allowed himself the luxury of a weekend off, glad that for once his department’s case load was surprisingly light, since he had been growing more and more irascible almost by the hour, and his friends and colleagues had resorted to avoiding him where possible, or treading on eggshells should they need to approach him. He was well aware of the fact, and sorry for it, but couldn’t seem to control this almost overpowering feeling of nervous anticipation, certain now that something momentous was about to occur, but not wanting to admit to or embrace his intuition. 

‘Hell’, he thought grimly. ‘Anyone would think I was scared of my own instincts! And they would be so right, dammit!’ ruefully aware that he was still uncomfortable with any ‘spiritual mumbo-jumbo’, especially without his own personal shaman and walking encyclopaedia to explain everything to him. 

Suddenly, Jim clapped his hands over his ears as he was assailed by a loud, rhythmic drumming at almost the exact moment that the fumes from the spray cleaning fluid he was using took on the characteristics of toxic waste to his suddenly sensitive nose. Cursing violently he wrestled with the dials necessary to control his reawakened senses, finding to his disgust that the action was no longer automatic thanks to several years lack of use, and he had to consciously work at it. 

Eventually, however, he sighed in relief as his senses responded to his commands and returned to acceptable levels, leaving him to wonder why they had chosen this moment to reappear with a vengeance, and no warning whatsoever. Because he surely hadn’t been thinking about them – hadn’t for years now – content to remain ‘normal’ as long as he didn’t have Blair.... 

And suddenly he knew. Knew without a doubt that Blair was coming. 

The drumming was approaching quickly now, the familiar heartbeat accompanied by a much-loved scent as Blair entered the building and climbed the stairs on his way to #307. Because wouldn’t you know that the elevator was out of use again. 

And Jim’s heart swelled with emotion, almost overcome with the strength of his reactions. 

Suddenly springing into action, he yanked open the door and took his first greedy look in five years at the man he now recognised as the missing part of himself. 

Blair halted in front of #307, unsurprised when it flew open long before he could knock. Placing his bookbag and small suitcase down on the floor to each side of him, he straightened up and gazed up into the face of his Sentinel, unaware that he wore the same expression as a man lost in the desert might wear when confronted with a long, cool drink of water. 

For long moments, neither of them moved nor spoke, taking the opportunity to study each other closely and trying to get a handle on their various unruly emotions. 

In those seconds, Jim subjected the smaller man to a thorough sensory scan the depth of which he had been incapable ever since his Guide left. Superficially, Blair looked tan and fit, hair still a riot of curls although worn somewhat shorter now, and with the first streaks of silver beginning to show at the temples. The huge blue eyes were as arresting as ever, although a few faint lines now crinkled the corners, at least to sentinel vision. The lush lips were curved in a shy smile, and Jim could make out tiny indentations in the lower one, obviously made by Blair’s teeth as he had nervously worried it during the approach to the loft. 

The enticing Blair-scent filled Jim’s eager nostrils, but he was concerned to note that it was tainted slightly by anxiety, and looking closer, he could easily make out the tremors running through the slender frame as Blair virtually quivered with nervous tension as he bounced a little on the balls of his feet. 

Returning his gaze to Blair’s face, Jim easily read the emotions written large on the mobile features, and shining from the depths of the wide, luminous eyes. Joy, excitement, love and longing were all there for him to see, but there was also fear, and Jim realised that he had been granted a precious opportunity to make things right between them. Or break them forever, and the onus rested on him to handle this just right or suffer alone and lonely for the rest of his life. 

Although Blair lacked the depth of sensory perception that Jim enjoyed once again, he still catalogued every detail he could in the beloved figure standing in the doorway. Jim was as buff and attractive as ever, his patrician face still little marred by lines, and the cornflower blue eyes met his in candid appraisal. The short, brown hair had receded a little more, but not by that much, and in Blair’s eyes Jim was still the most gorgeous specimen he had ever seen, or secretly lusted after. 

Heart now thrumming wildly in his chest, he swallowed hard and attempted to widen his smile as he whispered, “Hey, Jim! Um, long time no see, huh?” 

And the next second he was engulfed in a bear hug, cuddled in Jim’s powerful arms as he buried his face in Jim’s neck, and it was every bit as wonderful as he had ever imagined. 

Several luxurious minutes later, Jim finally released his hold a little; just enough to be able to push Blair away and smile down into the younger man’s upturned face, a tiny frown of concern creasing his brow as he saw the shimmer of unshed tears in the wide blue gaze. 

“Sorry, man” Blair huffed, shrugging a little in abashed apology, but making no move to break away from Jim’s grasp. 

“I guess I was a little nervous about how you’d react to me appearing on your doorstep out of the blue after all this time. Truth is, I knew I had to come, and didn’t want to stop once I’d made up my mind... And I didn’t want to hear you to tell me to turn round and go back where I came from....” he tailed off, dropping his gaze to Jim’s chest. 

“Aw, Chief!”replied Jim softly, raising his hand to cup Blair’s cheek, and tilt his Guide’s head up to meet his gaze again. “It’s so good to see you again, Blair. I’ve missed you so much...” and he dropped a kiss on the wide brow, something he’d imagined doing in his dreams so many times, particularly as a prelude to making love to the warm bundle in his arms. 

When Blair’s smile of pure delight lit up his face in response, Jim squeezed him again, then, bending to grab Blair’s scant luggage, ushered the smaller man into the loft, a Sentinel once more, now his Guide was back in his territory, and under his protection, where he belonged.  


\-------------------------  


As Jim set Blair’s bags down in the hallway, Blair gazed around him, greedily drinking in the interior of the loft, which hadn’t changed significantly in the five years since he had last seen it. 

Turning to look at Jim, he said, “Hey, Jim, looks great! It’s just as I remember it – but I see I’ve caught you in the middle of cleaning – sorry, man!” and grinned apologetically up into Jim’s face. 

“Uh, yeah” came Jim’s rather distracted response as he too gazed around. 

“Not very well, though” he muttered, and then sneezed suddenly, glaring at the bottle of cleaner with some trepidation. 

Staring quizzically at the bigger man, then around the loft again, Blair puzzled over Jim’s words for a moment, thinking that the loft looked good to him. But maybe not to Sentinel sight. And then he glanced at the cleaning product, noting the common brand name, and put the pieces together. 

“Um, Jim, man. How long have your senses been normal? And when did they come back online?” 

Looking slightly sheepish now, Jim replied, “Well, to be honest, Chief, they started to return to normal almost as soon as you left. And I didn’t mind, Blair, truly. I didn’t want to deal with them without you, and I definitely didn’t want to have to rely on Megan’s tender touch to bring me out of a zone! 

“And they came back just now. As soon as you approached the building, Chief” and he smiled tenderly at the man he now wanted as his Guide for always, if only he could persuade him to stay. 

“Oh man!” breathed Blair sadly. “I’m so sorry, Jim. I never knew my leaving would affect you so badly. Dammit! What kind of so-called Guide walks out on his Sentinel?” 

“One who had no choice, babe” murmured Jim. “I threw you out again, remember? OK, it wasn’t as dramatic as the first time before the Mexico fiasco, but it was just as effective. And so wrong! 

“Look, let’s get some coffee, then have that talk we should have had years ago, hey? Because at last I’m ready to face up to a few facts, and I need to convince you that I really have changed, Blair” and he gazed earnestly into the younger man’s eyes, reading the emotions flitting through the blue depths, and relieved to see hope and longing, and something he chose to interpret as forgiveness. 

“OK, man, I’m down with that” replied Blair with marked relief. “But let me get that for you” he added, grabbing the bottle of cleaner and heading for the trash bin. 

“Guess we’re going to have to shop for Sentinel-friendly products again, huh?” 

And Jim smiled in delight at the implication that Blair was back to stay.  


\---------------------------  


A short while later the two men sat side by side on the sofa, fresh mugs of coffee in their hands, and Blair settled down with one knee raised so he could sit sideways on, needing to see Jim’s face as they talked. 

“So, you’re the Captain of MCU now? Are you enjoying it, Jim? Because I honestly thought you preferred to keep away from the red tape and politics.” 

“Yep to both, Chief – except for the politics, that is! You’re right about that! But I didn’t realise you’d heard. I mean, I should have known you’d be keeping an eye on me, but as I never encouraged you to correspond with me, I never really thought about it.” 

“Um, well, it was Megan who told me. I’ve been keeping in touch with her on and off since she went back to Australia, and she keeps in touch with Joel, so she could give me all the news as she got it. Sorry, man. But I needed to know you were OK without annoying you by getting in your face” and he dropped his gaze to his coffee for a moment. 

“Well, it’s no more than I did” replied Jim with a wry grin. “I used to make periodic searches on the internet to see how you were doing. You’d be surprised how often your name cropped up in those online anthropology websites, Darwin! 

“And I contacted Naomi once” he added, face acquiring a distinctly uncomfortable cast. “Did she tell you? Because I have to say, Chief, she wasn’t too pleased to hear from me”. 

“Um, yeah, she did” answered Blair, looking equally uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry, man. I know she scolded you, because she admitted it to me. I’m sorry she told you that you were a fool. It wasn’t any of her business, especially as a lot of the problem was down to her interfering anyway.” 

“But she was right, Blair. I was a fool. I honestly thought I was doing right by you encouraging you to go, and didn’t know I was hurting you too. Because it’s true what they say, babe. You _don’t_ know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone!” and he smiled ruefully into Blair’s understanding gaze. 

Swallowing hard against the emotions threatening to choke him, Blair reached over to squeeze Jim’s knee, then returned to a slightly more neutral topic to give them both a few moments to regain their equilibrium. 

“So is Simon OK? I mean, I didn’t think he’d take early retirement, but Megan mentioned that he was still suffering from the after-effects of Zeller’s bullet. Man! I still feel so bad about that” he added quietly. 

“Don’t start, Chief, OK? Zeller wasn’t your doing, diss mess or no diss mess. And Simon didn’t blame you any more than Megan did. Mind you, he wasn’t happy when you turned his badge offer down, but that’s water under the bridge now. 

“I realise now that it was a no-hoper. You were right. It wouldn’t have worked, because you wouldn’t have been happy, and, I fully admit it now, I wouldn’t have helped you any. I still had my head firmly up my ass, and it took your leaving and a few years of self-examination to get with the programme. 

“All I can say is that I’m sorry, Blair, and I’ll try and do better from now on. That is, if you’ll give me a chance?” 

And Blair didn’t answer in words this time, but, after reaching for Jim’s drink and placing both their mugs carefully down on the coffee table, turned to cup Jim’s face in his palms and slowly, so slowly leaned in, praying that he hadn’t misinterpreted Jim’s signals. 

And when Jim’s lips claimed his in their first sweet kiss, he knew he was right. 

It was a good few minutes before they continued their discussion, but eventually they reluctantly broke apart, needing to breathe, but still holding hands as they grinned at each other. 

“So, how did you enjoy that expedition, Chief? I gather that Eli Stoddard asked for you in person?” 

“Yeah, man. He was so cool, and didn’t push me about the Sentinel diss. And the trip was good for me. I realised that I wasn’t such a failure after all, academically speaking, and it did my ego the world of good. 

“But I also realised that I couldn’t forget my time on the rollercoaster, Jim, and knew that I would never be satisfied with simple teaching again. 

“So that’s why I decided on the writing project while I made up my mind what exactly I did want to do. And I found out in the strangest way!” and he broke off, wondering if Jim would understand how significant the whole Butler’s Crossing episode was to both of them. 

“Well, go on, babe! You’re going all mysterious on me. I know you’re probably wondering how I’ll react, aren’t you?” 

“Well, yeah. I mean, I don’t mean to insult you or anything, Jim, but you were never interested in my academic stuff before, and I don’t want to bore you.” 

“I hear that” replied Jim in gentle mockery, and no little self deprecation. “But I hope I’ve learned my lesson, Chief, that the world really doesn’t revolve around me. Not that I expect to be perfect from now on, you understand, but at least I’m prepared to try now. And to listen when you call me on my stupidity. 

“And I read your diss, Blair. And I was completely blown away by your talent and your love, Chief. It really is brilliant, and I was truly humbled that you spent so much time and effort in trying to help me. I can’t thank you enough, babe, and I’m so sorry I was so bone-headed about it. You deserved so much better from me.” 

“Oh Jim, that means so much to me. Thank you. And I don’t regret anything I did for you, Jim, because I realised that it was the most important facet in my life and had been for far longer than I thought. See, when I went to Butler’s Crossing a couple of days ago to revisit one of the places where Naomi and I stayed for a couple of months, I met up with the teacher whose class I was in when I was about seven, and he reminded me of this project we did, and mine involved walnuts....” And he was off and running, talking a mile a minute, and almost bouncing in his seat with enthusiasm. And Jim loved every second, realising just how much had missed this hyperactive bundle of energy in his life. 

“So, Chief. You’re saying that these ‘special people’ were important to you as early as seven years old, right? So you must have had instincts from a very early age that you were destined to connect with them, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess so, Jim. I just didn’t know that they included Sentinels until I read Burton’s manuscript. But as soon as I had a name for them, I knew it was my destiny to seek them out, if that doesn’t sound too corny?” 

“Not at all, babe. I just wish I had had a similar instinct. All I knew was what Dad told me, and that was that I was some sort of freak. Yes, I know I’m not” he added quickly to forestall Blair’s automatic denial. “It’s just taken me a long time to come to terms with it, and the reason I have is purely down to your belief in me, Blair. And how could I not love you for that?” 

Then, looking down pointedly at their still joined hands, Jim said, “I don’t want to put any sort of dampener on our reunion, babe, but I have to ask – have you ever had feelings for another man before? Because your rep as a womaniser was pretty convincing, babe! I mean, much as I’m really enjoying this closeness right now, I don’t want to push you into something you’re not really up with....” 

“It’s OK, Jim” Blair replied, squeezing Jim’s hands in his own. 

“Um, I have to admit that, although I’ve fancied a few men from afar, so to speak, I’ve actually never done anything about it. I’m sorry, Big Guy, but see, I was always the smallest and geekiest kid in my class, even at Uni, so it wasn’t the best idea to put the moves on some other guy who could probably knock me into the middle of next week, get my drift? So I went after girls instead. It was safer, and very satisfying also. 

“But I wanted you the first time I saw you, Jim. And I knew I couldn’t do anything about it. I mean, you didn’t look like someone who’d give a nerdy geek like me a second glance in that respect, and also I was so frightened of the horror stories I’d heard about gay cops. I couldn’t risk doing that to you, man, and that’s another reason I couldn’t accept the badge. I mean, say we had gotten together as I wanted. It could have led to your death, man! And I couldn’t have ever lived with that – without you.” 

“Oh, Blair! If you did but know how desperate I was to tell you how much I wanted you! But I thought it was useless. You ran after women like they were going out of fashion, and I never even gave it a thought as to why; or even asked you! If I hadn’t been such a coward, perhaps Alex and the diss mess would never have happened! But I know I didn’t help. All those comments about table-leg humping were uncalled for, and purely down to jealousy. And now it annoys me so much that we wasted so much time...!” 

“It’s OK, Jim” came the soft reply. “We both danced around each other for so long. And considering how close we’d become over the years, it was inexcusable that we both refused to admit what was under our noses. Communication has to go both ways, man. 

“But as long as you’re happy to take me back as your Guide, I can cope with anything, I swear!” 

“Then prepare to cope, baby, because I want you alright!” stated Jim, eyes conveying every bit of his determination. 

“And you won’t have to worry about the ‘gay cop’ thing either, babe. I’ve been giving my future a lot of thought, and have decided that I’ve put enough years into the military and the PD. I didn’t want to admit it until now – now you’re back with me – but I could do with some other way of protecting the tribe. How does setting up as a Private Investigation agency grab you, Chief? It’s something I’ve been giving a lot of thought to recently, but never acted upon – unless you were with me...”  


\------------------  


**Epilogue: three months later:**  


Blair let himself into the loft, a huge smile almost threatening to split his face, and bouncing with barely contained excitement. 

It was Monday evening, and he had spent the afternoon at Rainier - and very profitably too - and he couldn’t wait to tell Jim everything that had transpired. Dropping his keys in the basket, he shrugged off and hung up his waterproof jacket, and toed off his wet sneakers before almost skipping to the kitchen to hug the big man who was waiting there for him, smiling almost as widely as Blair. 

“Hey, Chief, watch the merchandise!” quipped his Sentinel and lover, as the smaller man threw himself into Jim’s arms, his own wrapping around the trim waist to squeeze as hard as he could. 

“I take it you have good news, then, babe?” Jim queried, after first claiming a very satisfying kiss. 

Leaning back enough in Jim’s embrace to gaze adoringly up at the taller man, Blair nodded enthusiastically before saying “OH yeah, man! It went great! You are now looking at Rainier’s newest adjunct Professor of Anthropology! And get this! The Dean even went as far as suggesting that I might want to apply for tenure further down the line! Not that I want to, man” he prattled on, wanting to reassure Jim that he wasn’t bound for a full-time academic career after all they had been through. 

“It’s just really nice of him to offer, you know?” 

“It’s no more than you deserve, baby, so what say we go and sit down for a bit so you can tell me all about it. The dinner’s at a stage where I can safely leave it a while, and we can compare our days.” 

“Sounds good to me” replied Blair with a happy smile. “As long as we can cuddle while we talk...!” 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Chief” chuckled Jim, as he steered his Guide towards the sofa where they snuggled together, exchanging lazy kisses for a few minutes. 

Finally pulling back, sappy grins on both their faces, Jim murmured, “OK, lover. Tell me all about it.” And Blair did. 

Excitement surging again, he began, “When I got there, gotta say I was really nervous, Jim. I mean, it was so good of Eli to put my name forward and recommend me for the post, but I never really thought anything would come of it because of my history there, you know? But it was fine – better than fine! With Chancellor Edwards gone, the Dean was more than happy to wipe the slate clean, so to speak, and even said he’d missed me! What do you think of that? 

“Mind you, I don’t think it hurt that the rough draft of my new study text got such good reviews from the publishers. You could almost see his eyes light up at the thought of having me back” he added, with a slightly cynical grimace. 

“But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I have a part-time job that pays moderately well so I can help out with the expenses while the agency gets up and running. And leave me with plenty of time to help you” and he grinned happily, bright eyes luminous with love as he pressed even closer, finally climbing onto Jim’s lap, straddling the older man and dropping a kiss on the end of his nose. 

Even as Jim smiled back and encircled the mischievous imp sitting astride him in a gentle hug, he couldn’t help but consider how much he had changed, thanks to his beloved Guide and the smaller man’s abiding love for and dedication to his Sentinel. Who’d have thought that ex-Ranger, ‘Hard-ass’ Ellison would ever have tolerated cuddling his lover – his very male lover – on his lap? Certainly not Jim himself, but he couldn’t be more grateful to find that not only did he tolerate it, but positively revelled in Blair’s demonstrative brand of love. 

Not that they could indulge in such overt PDAs outside of the loft, since Jim still had to consider his position as Captain of Major Crimes, but that wouldn’t be for much longer now. And that brought him to reveal his own news. 

“I’m so glad for you, babe. I know you said you were happy to just be my partner at the agency – and in life - but I wanted you to be able to keep a practical interest in anthropology. You’re a great teacher, babe, and it’s been your life for so long. And it doesn’t do me any harm either!” he added with a grin. “My shaman Guide needs to be able to access all available resources of information, and Rainier’s library sure has plenty!” 

Blair giggled happily at that, then said, “Well, that’s enough about my day for now. Tell me all about what you’ve been up to!” And Jim knew his lover’s interest was totally genuine, and the knowledge warmed him to his very soul. 

“Well, I don’t think my day compares with yours in the enjoyment stakes, babe, but it certainly had its moments. I decided that it was time to let the Chief of Police and the Commissioner in on our plans, especially now we’ve signed the lease for our new office, but to say they were unhappy to receive my letter of resignation would be an understatement, babe! Talk about bluster! You’d have thought I’d suddenly turned into Public Enemy #1! 

“To be honest, I guess it’s kind of flattering that they tried so hard to persuade me to change my mind, but then again, that could simply be because they don’t want to have to go to the trouble of recruiting another Captain.” 

“And perhaps it’s also because you’ve been so very successful in the role, lover, politics notwithstanding” murmured Blair in a more serious tone, pulling back from where he’d been nibbling at Jim’s earlobe. “The MCU’s arrest and conviction rate has remained consistently high under your leadership, Jim, easily as high as when Simon was at the helm, and even he admits that it was mainly down to your input as his lead detective. In one way or another, you’ve been a huge asset to the department for years.” 

“And don’t forget your own part, babe” responded Jim. “I couldn’t have achieved all that without you, whatever I might have said in the past. We made a great team, and we will again. 

“Anyhow, my resignation’s in, and I have a month’s notice to work as from today. But having said that, I have so much leave accrued, theoretically I don’t have to work much of it at all. But in fairness, I said I’d do at least two weeks to give them chance to look around for my replacement, but between you and me, I think they may well consider H. I suggested they let him take over as temporary Captain, and I think they may well confirm him in the role if he does as well as I expect him to. He knows the department and personnel inside out, and he’s been my senior detective for a few years now. And it would be an easy hand-over. 

“So, here I am. Looking forward to a new life outside of the PD. And I couldn’t be happier!” and he pulled Blair in for another kiss.  


\-----------------------  


Much later that night, having enjoyed their dinner, and retired to the big bedroom upstairs for an early night of mutual relaxation, Jim lay awake, revelling in the warmth of the man in his arms, whose curly head rested comfortably on his chest, soft breaths fluttering against his skin as Blair slept, sated and happy after their lovemaking. 

Smiling softly and bending slightly to kiss the crown of the curly head, Jim relived their joyful but gentle joining, before recalling their first time three months ago, which now felt like a lifetime, so comfortable were they in their loving commitment. 

Although obviously nervous, Blair had allowed Jim to draw him upstairs to the mezzanine bedroom, quietly insisting that Blair should now consider it his room also. 

He already had plans to convert Blair’s tiny ex-bedroom into a study, but needed to know that his Guide was comfortable with that, and also needed to prove to Blair that his trust in his Guide was for real, as was his desire to make love to the beautiful young man in his arms. 

And Blair had believed in him. Had smiled and let go, allowing Jim to undress him with care and respect, and lie him in the centre of the big bed, ready and willing to learn how to please his Sentinel, trusting that Jim wouldn’t hurt him. 

Well aware of the responsibility incumbent on him of being worthy of his Guide’s trust, Jim forced himself to go slowly, carefully touching, caressing and kissing his new lover, determined to bring Blair to the height of ecstasy before taking him and sealing their pact of love and commitment. 

And that was how it had happened. Blair gave himself completely into his Sentinel’s care, and the joining was blinding in its bright energy. Sentinel and Guide bonded as one forever, the circle complete once again.  


\------------------------------  


Of course, it hadn’t been all plain sailing from thereon in. Although Jim and Blair were happy and content in their reaffirmed partnership, there was still the question of how they were to live their lives from now on. Jim had been adamant in his declaration that he was more than happy to leave the PD, and after a long and deep discussion, Blair now believed that not only was it Jim’s desire, but it was the best way forward for them both. And he was only too happy to support Jim in the concept of becoming Private Investigators. After all, even a Captain in the PD wasn’t immune from danger, as they had experienced with Simon more than once, so Blair was all for pursuing another career option that posed less of a threat to his lover whilst still providing the means by which the Sentinel could continue protecting his tribe. 

Having agreed upon a course of action, they threw themselves into exploring Jim’s plan, seeking out potential offices and looking into all the necessary planning involved in setting up such an enterprise. 

And then Jim had become uncomfortably aware that Blair was once again automatically deferring his own needs to those of his Sentinel, but for a while hadn’t known how to remedy the situation without upsetting his Guide. 

But once again Eli Stoddard had ridden to the rescue, and Jim had been far too relieved to feel jealous about it. 

Eli had followed Blair’s travels after the expedition, wanting to make sure his favourite student was as happy as could be expected. And when he had discovered that Blair had returned to Cascade and his Sentinel, Eli decided to use his considerable reputation and standing at Rainier to sound out the possibility of getting Blair reinstated at least in a part-time position; a project made considerably easier since Chancellor Edwards had finally been dismissed two years’ previously after yet more dubious mismanagement. 

So now Blair was once again able to enjoy at least a few hours a week submersing himself in the study of his choice, and Jim was relieved of much of the burden of the guilt he had suffered ever since denying Blair his right to publish his original dissertation. 

However, there had also been the question of reintroducing Blair to Jim’s friends and colleagues at the PD, which turned out to be a little more fraught than Jim had expected, and Jim’s brow wrinkled in an irritated frown as he recalled a couple of unpleasant incidents.  


\------------------------  


About a week after Blair had returned to the loft, Jim had asked him if he’d like to meet him for lunch, and arranged for a visitor’s pass so Blair could come up to Major Crimes, since he knew that H was really looking forward to seeing ‘Hairboy’ again. 

He had also arranged for Joel to meet up with them, certain that Blair would relish the chance to catch up with the older man, who had been a staunch friend to both of them. 

As Rafe, Megan and Rhonda also had moved on to pastures new, there weren’t many of the ‘old crowd’ left in the bullpen who Blair would recognise, but in a way Jim considered that to be no bad thing, since there would be little chance of anyone else recognising Blair and recalling the ‘diss fiasco’ after all this time. Or so he had thought. 

On the dot of 12 noon, Joel had knocked on Jim’s office door, entering at Jim’s invitation, and smiling fit to bust at the thought of meeting Blair again. 

“Hey, Jim! I hope I’m not too early? I just didn’t want to risk missing you and Blair, ‘cos I gotta say, I’m so looking forward to this! I just knew he’d be back, Jim, and I couldn’t be more pleased for the pair of you!” And he grinned in whole-hearted pleasure as Jim replied, “Hey, Joel! Good to see you, old friend, and no, you’re not too early. Hell, we’re talking Sandburg here! Can you recall him ever being early? Or even on time for that matter! And we wouldn’t have gone without you anyway. Blair’s so been looking forward to seeing you also!” 

They chatted amicably for a few minutes, catching up on each other’s news, when suddenly Jim frowned, staring towards the door as he said, “Sorry, Joel. Back in a minute. Blair’s here, and it sounds as if someone’s giving him a hard time!” 

Getting quickly to his feet, he strode out of the office and across the bullpen, unaware of Joel’s anxious but also speculative gaze as he watched his friend’s retreating back. 

Reaching the corridor, Jim hurried towards the voices he could hear, bypassing the elevators and heading for the stairwell, anger growing by the second at his lover’s unhappy words. 

“Look, man, I told you. I’m here to meet with Jim Ellison, at his invitation, OK? This visitor’s pass is valid, and you’re only going to make trouble for yourself if you carry on trying to prevent me from meeting up with my friend...” 

“Friend, he says!” sneered another voice, one which Jim had identified immediately as belonging to a veteran uniformed cop; one not known for his tolerant nature. 

“Look, _Doctor_ Sandburg! You’re not welcome here, OK? We thought we’d gotten rid of you years ago, you cheating little shit, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out now, or you’ll be sorry!” 

A second voice chimed in then, saying, “He’s right, runt. There’s still plenty of us here who remember you and what you did. Ellison’s done just fine without you – in spite of your shit – so I suggest you do as you’re told, and get out while you can still walk. 

“’Cos if you don’t”, the first voice said again, “there could be a nasty accident, know what I mean? Quite common folks falling down stairs....” 

Just then Jim burst through the door, quickly taking in the scene on the landing, and snarling in fury as he saw two uniformed cops gripping Blair’s arms, in the first stages of apparently trying to force him over the rail. 

“Let him go right now, you assholes!” he growled, eyes burning with predatory threat, and daring them to give him an excuse to tear them both limb from limb. 

“Consider yourselves relieved of duty as of now, and on a charge of assault against a civilian. If you know what’s good for you” he continued in a savage mockery of their previous words. 

“Report to your watch commander, and I’ll be down shortly to make sure you’ve made your statements correctly. Now, get out!” 

Aghast, and glancing at each other in shock, the cops released Blair as if he had suddenly become scorching hot, but even then, the older cop couldn’t quite let it go, almost whining as he said, “We did it for you, Captain! We were just trying to make sure one of our own didn’t get shafted again by _him”_ and he sneered at Blair before facing Jim again. 

However, his partner, who had a more highly developed instinct for self-preservation, quickly grabbed the other’s arm, muttering, “Come _on_ Riley! Um, just going, Captain Ellison! Sorry!” and he virtually dragged the other cop down the stairs, hurrying as quickly as possible, and obviously not at all certain that the furious Ellison wouldn’t charge down after them and take his revenge anyway. 

Quickly reaching for Blair, Jim placed his hands on his Guide’s shoulders and peered worriedly into his upturned gaze. 

“You OK, baby? I’m so sorry, Blair. I honestly didn’t think there would be any such reaction after all this time. And those two aren’t even attached to Major Crimes, so I don’t know what they were thinking!” 

Although trembling noticeably, Blair managed a small grin as he replied, “It’s OK, man. I guess I was sort of expecting something of the sort, which is why I thought using the stairs instead of riding up in the elevator would be safer – less likely to encounter problems! Guess I was wrong there!” he added a little sheepishly. “Who’d have thought two overweight uniforms would have been using the stairs voluntarily?” 

“Actually, they followed you up from the lobby, Chief” replied Jim softly. “I could hear them plotting as I tracked you. Joel must have thought I’d gone mad when I shot out of my office like it was on fire! 

“Talking of which, you still up for lunch? Because he’s really looking forward to seeing you, babe.” 

And determinedly shaking off his anxiety, Blair grinned as he replied, “You bet, Jim! Can’t wait to catch up with Joel’s news....”  


\-----------------------------  


Thinking back over the incident, Jim knew that it had been one more reason confirming that his decision to leave the force was the right one. There was no way he would willingly want Blair in an abusive or even potentially dangerous situation, and he realised that he had been growing disillusioned with his job for some while now. Intolerance and prejudice had no place in the force, but managed to survive anyway, despite politicians’ claims to the contrary. 

Having said that, he still had some good friends within the PD; and also a few who had left or retired but remained in contact with their erstwhile colleagues. For the most part they were happy at Blair’s return, seeing how much more cheerful and relaxed Jim was now his friend was back, but Jim had been disappointed at Simon Banks’ initial reaction. 

A couple of weeks after the altercation in the stairwell, Blair had been invited by H to accompany Jim to the next poker night, which this time was being held at Simon’s house. Pleased that the tradition was being upheld, Blair happily agreed, and had admitted to Jim that he was really looking forward to it. 

“It’ll be like old times, Jim! I really missed those games, man. It meant so much to me when you guys included me – made me feel less of an outsider.” 

“Well, apart from Megan, of course, it’ll be the same old faces, Chief. And I can’t wait to see how they’ll react to you cleaning their clocks again like you used to!” laughed Jim, throwing an arm around Blair’s shoulders as they approached Simon’s door. 

Unfortunately, the evening started out badly, so much so that Jim almost got to the point of bundling up his disappointed Guide and walking out. 

As soon as they entered the house, it was obvious that Simon was less than happy with Blair’s presence. Although he greeted Jim affably, his acknowledgement of the smaller man was just this side of civil, earning him a sharp glance from Jim. 

H, Rafe, Joel and H’s partner Pete Donovan were already in the den, and all greeted Jim and Blair effusively, much to Blair’s relief, but it wasn’t long before the others realised that something was very wrong with Simon’s attitude towards the long lost Guide. 

As the game progressed, when he couldn’t ignore Blair completely, Simon was brusque to the point of rudeness, so that Jim seethed in tension and Blair grew quieter and more withdrawn by the minute, concentration gone since his heart was definitely not in his play. 

Eventually deciding that enough was enough, Jim was about to make his excuses and go when Joel tactfully collared Simon under some pretence, and withdrew to the kitchen, where he tackled the problem head-on, demanding to know just what Simon’s problem was with Blair. 

Although sorely tempted to eavesdrop, at that point Jim refrained with an effort, and concentrated instead on socialising with his other friends, pleased when they all made a concerted effort to include Blair in their conversation. 

Jim never did know exactly what had transpired between Joel and Simon, but on their return, Simon was noticeably different, and if he didn’t exactly come out and hug Blair with protestations of undying friendship, he was much more polite, such that the younger man began to relax bit by bit. 

By the end of the evening, Blair was almost back to his normal, bouncy self, much to everyone’s relief, even if it was tempered a bit by the losses they incurred as the young man’s game returned to its usual level of expertise. 

When it was time to leave, Simon quietly asked Jim and Blair to stay on for a few moments after everyone else had gone, and had apologised for his earlier behaviour. He had admitted that at first he had felt affronted when Blair had spurned his offer of a badge after all the tap dancing he had put himself through to get it, but then confessed to being more than happy when Jim’s senses had returned to normal after Blair’s departure, never having been comfortable with any of the ‘Sentinel voodoo shit’ anyway. 

He had been pleased and relieved when Jim accepted the Captaincy, but had seen Blair’s return as detrimental, sure that Jim’s senses would come online again and cause him problems he could do without. 

However, once Joel had clued him in on Jim and Blair’s plans to set up as Private Investigators, and had undoubtedly hinted at the new heights he believed the partnership had reached on a personal level, Simon realised his error. 

“I’m sorry, Jim. I was only thinking in terms of how being a Sentinel again would affect you at the PD. It’s not like Blair could work with you, even if he is a PhD now, and you seemed so much more comfortable working as a detective with normal senses. And as Captain, you didn’t really need heightened senses anyway. 

But now I realise I was wrong. You had a life outside of the MCU, and it took Joel to make me see that you needed Blair in it. I’m sorry.”  


\-----------------------------  


Over the next few weeks Simon had continued to thaw towards Blair, and Jim knew that Blair was happy about that, not so much on his own behalf, but because he knew Jim and Simon had enjoyed many years of friendship, and he didn’t want to think that he had caused a rift between them. 

Cuddling Blair closer as his lover twitched and snuffled a little in his sleep, rubbing his cheek against Jim’s chest, Jim smiled contentedly as he drifted towards slumber himself. 

All in all, he had everything he wanted now, thanks to the love, support and guidance of the beloved bundle in his arms. The loft was a home once again, filled with his lover’s joyful presence, and he was looking forward to a fresh start in their new enterprise, knowing that together they could achieve anything. With Blair as his Guide and life partner, the Sentinel was content to retain his ability and use his senses freely to protect the tribe as his destiny demanded. 

Relaxing even more, Jim cast a last glance around the bedroom before settling down to sleep, and his eyes lit briefly on Blair’s latest addition to the ornaments gracing the nightstand. 

A basket of walnuts....  


**The End.** 43 


End file.
